


The Traveler's Door- Once Upon a Time

by Phoenix_Butt



Series: The Traveler's Door Series [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Penny Dreadful (TV), Supernatural, X-Men
Genre: Angst and Feels, Crossover, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Freeform, Immortality sucks when you're a slave, Multi, POV First Person, Suicidal Thoughts, strong female lead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Butt/pseuds/Phoenix_Butt
Summary: I am Traveler Lavinia. I am two-hundred and ninety-four years old. What I do is travel story to story making sure they get to their critical fixed moments without fail. If something goes wrong it is reviewed by the Council of Three. Should they find the traveler was negligent, that traveler will be punished. Out of all the travelers that have ever existed, I am the only one who has a one-hundred percent success record. And yet I am the most hated by the Council. I suppose it's mostly because they don't like how I get attached to characters and make personal connections. But there's also the fact that I can't stay dead, which means they can't get rid of me.They should never have taken me from my home in the first place. Some day, all their abuse and hatred of me is going to turn around and bite them in the butt. I hope to have a front-row seat.
Series: The Traveler's Door Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938895
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, dearies! The 3rd Act of The Traveler's Door Series. As you'll remember Lavinia's just left the Supernatural universe and is back in Once Upon a Time. For those of you that hated the last season, I sympathize. I hope getting to see behind the curtain a bit will make it a bit better. ;)

Once I step through the door into the small alcove of Regina’s bar I find myself dropping all my things to the ground and collapsing in tears. Wrapping my arms around myself, I sob, rocking back and forth. Sorrow has hit me in the stomach like a sledgehammer.

“Why can’t… I just die?”

The sounds of a busy, full bar come to my ears, my sobbing getting lost easily.

“Someone over here?” comes the voice of Regina from around the corner of the alcove. “Everything okay…” the reformed Evil Queen has found me. Falling down next to me she takes my shoulders in her hands. “Lavinia?! Are you okay? We’ve been worried about you. John!”

The sound of pounding heavy boots comes to me then, John in modern clothing steps forward. He sees me and his golden eyes widen in surprise. Kneeling down to me he takes me into his arms.

“Miss Lavinia, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asks me worriedly.

“...I…” I squeak out before there is a succession of terrified screams from the other room.

John looks over his shoulder.

“It’s started,” he tells me in a horrified whisper. “I wasn’t sure if you’d get back in time. We were trying to make the freezer secure… It seems we failed.”

_ Ethan will kill everyone here if I don’t get myself together. _

I close my eyes for a moment, collecting what little strength I have. Then I stand. People are running in fear past us for the door. 

_ Mourn when you can, _ I think to myself.  _ Now is not the time.  _

Not bothering to wipe away the tears on my face I follow the loudest screams through the bar to a back room where Ethan is transforming painfully before everyone’s eyes. People rush past me. I clear my throat as I get closer, my tears still falling.

“Get everyone out of here,” I call over my shoulder as I watch my friend through blurry eyes. “Lock the doors, make sure the cops don’t get called.”

“Yes, mum,” John tells me as he starts to pull Regina along with him. 

“But, you can’t possibly...” Regina tells me.

“I’ve spent the last couple months evolving,” I tell her. “I can take care of him… Go.”

Wolf Ethan glares at the people running away from him, debating about who to attack first. Honestly, they are pretty easy pickings for him right now. Then he sees me, his eyes go wide with surprise then narrow in rage. He charges me furiously scattering stools and knocking over tables. I stand in silence. Tears still running down my face. Ethan’s clawed hands reach out, intending to rip through me. Putting my hands up, I take his in mine and hold onto them with strong fingers and claws of my own. This only seems to make him angrier which makes him lunge for my neck with his fangs. I lean my head back and close my eyes.

“If only it would work,” I whisper as he bites into the soft flesh.

I fully expect him to rip out my throat. The pain of him clamping down is there. Blood is rolling down from each puncture. But, he seems to have stopped in hesitation.

_ Please, go on. Just a second of feeling nothing, to make the pain stop. To die.  _

Ethan doesn’t move his jaw, his fingers twitch slightly in between mine as he growls lowly deep in his throat. Tears continue to pool up and run down my skin. Pleading silently that he’ll do it, a sob escapes my mouth.

“Please…” I cry softly, “go on…”

I feel Ethan twist his head slightly, his fangs digging into my muscles at an awkward and painful angle. I open my eyes then and stare up at the decorative metal tiled ceiling. Ethan is looking at my face with curious interest. Slowly, he pulls his teeth out of my neck, the wounds heal quickly. There is blood on his mouth from my throat. He jerks my body closer, looking down into my pained face. I look back but I can’t really seem to focus on him. 

“...I’m never going to stop hurting, am I?” I ask myself softly. 

Ethan leans even closer, then licks at a trail of tears on my left cheek. When he pulls back his eyes seem to have softened. The tension in his hands slackens as he watches me with what might be considered worry for a wolf. These actions finally catch my attention fully. I shake my head at him slightly. 

“No. Don’t do that,” I tell him desperately. Taking his long, strong fingered hands I put them on my chest, above my breasts. “Rip and tear out my heart.” Ethan growls at me and yanks his hands away from my grasp. “It won’t hurt,” I tell him earnestly. “No more than it already does.”

I step closer to him and he backs away quickly. I exhale painfully as I look at him with sorrow. He lets out a low whine at me. For some reason this causes my legs to give out and I crumple to the ground again. More tears burst from my eyes again. I find myself looking around without seeing anything once more.

“I don’t know if I can do my job this time,” I whisper. “If I don’t I’ll end up losing you too and I really will find a way to die... I’ll have to.” Ethan crouches to be at my level and gets closer to me, examining my face. I look back at him. “I’m so tired,” I whisper, “And I… I did something stupid…” Ethan crawls closer, breathing softly. “I’m in love and I had... to... leave him.”

A sob chokes my words off and I crumple forward, hugging myself tightly. 

_ I’m going to lose Ethan and John too. I’m going to be alone forever and ever and I’m just going to keep gathering more pain. I’ll never be able to get away from it. Oh, God! I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t… _

Strong fingers grab my shoulders and pull me forward into a warm, hard chest.

“I have you, Vinnie,” comes Ethan’s drawl from above me.

I grab his shirt and cling tightly as I cry hysterically. Ethan seems to have returned to his human self. The why of the matter doesn’t interest either of us right now while he holds me tightly and rocks us back and forth. The night draws on with me falling in and out of sobs and silent crying. 

Somewhere close to dawn Ethan can finally ask me what happened while I was gone. I relay everything to him through tears and heartbreaking detail. The brothers, Jack, Castiel, the trip to the Citadel, losing and winning so many times. My evolving, dying, and coming back. Stupidly allowing myself to be in love with Dean and knowing that today would happen. When the morning is in full swing John and Regina come in to find Ethan and me still on the ground.

“Miss Lavinia?” John asks softly as he comes over to crouch next to me.

“She needs rest,” Ethan tells him as I stare off into space, drained, but still disappointingly awake. Then to Regina, “Could we use your apartment upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Regina tells him quickly. “Of course.”

Ethan stands with me in his arms and walks to the spiral staircase in the alcove where our door is. Going up the stairs in silence, he brings me over to a plush purple couch in the apartment’s living room. Setting me down, he places a pillow under my head and covers me with a nearby blanket. He squats down to look me in the eye. Ethan’s big hand touches my hair.

“Sleep,” he tells me. “When you wake up we’ll have food for you.”

I don’t answer, but he gives me a smile anyway before he stands and goes back downstairs to the bar. At some point I close my eyes and finally drift off. My sleep isn’t long though, only enough for the sun to have come up completely and shine in my eyes through the tall windows of Regina’s apartment. It’s spacious, all brick walls and old wood floors. The kitchen is a ways off from the spacious living room. Another set of stairs goes up to what must be bedrooms. What I’m assuming is a bathroom is under it. There’s industrial-style decorations tastefully placed about the space, old bicycle parts on the walls, a steel pipe bookshelf here and there. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” I mutter to myself despondently. My stomach growls, making me look down at it. “That’s what I want…”

I move over to the spiral stairs and slowly descend them. The feeling I have inside is not of sadness or depression anymore, it’s simply nothingness. Perhaps I’m in shock. Or maybe my mind is trying to protect me somehow. Maybe I’m broken beyond repair now. It hardly matters.

_ Short term goals… food. That’s a good one. _

When I get down to the bar level I see a young man at a tall table filming a seated young woman. He’s attractive, pales eyes, stubble on his face, wild hair. He’s wearing blue jeans, a white shirt under a generic grey zip-up cotton jacket. As the woman speaks, I realize this is the same person I’d seen talking to Regina the first night I met her; Drizella.

“...I knew everything about my mother, but…” she says with a tight voice, “how could I have not known that she kidnapped poor Eloise Gardener?”

She’s lying. The man nods and puts his phone down. 

“Perfect,” he tells her with a smile, unaware that he’s being deceived. “That was great, Ivy.”

“Really?” she asks softly as she wipes at her tears stained face.

“Yeah,” he tells her earnestly. “Yeah, and thank you so much for doing this interview. I mean, I know it can’t be easy to talk about what happened.”

He says this and pulls a stool over so he can sit down in front of her. I seem to catch his attention just as he sits down though because he stands back up.

“Uh… hey,” he tells me. “Are you okay?”

I look at him emotionlessly. 

“Probably not,” I reply dryly. “Do you know where Ethan or John is?” 

At that moment I hear footsteps from across the bar, they’re coming toward us. 

“Miss Lavinia,” I hear John call to me. “I’m glad you’re up.” He moves quickly to me and smiles as he takes me gently into his embrace. When he pulls back he looks at me, trying to smooth my wild curls, then he adds, “I have food for you. Will you eat?”

I nod. He gives me a grin. Keeping one arm around my shoulders, he directs me toward the bar’s kitchen. 

“Hey, uh, John,” calls the man with the phone as we start to pass him. 

John stops and looks at him.

“Yes, Mr. Mills?” John asks.

“Just, Henry,” Henry tells him with a smile. “Uh, is she a friend of Roni’s?”

“Yes, Mr., uh, Henry,” John says with an apologetic smile. “She and Roni are quite close.”

“Oh, well, okay then,” Henry looks at me and waves. “Hi, I’m Henry Mills.”

I look at him and nod.

“Lavinia,” I tell him simply.

“You look like you’re having a rough morning,” he tells me sympathetically.

“Ah, yes,” John says quickly. “Miss Lavinia has just come back from a trip and it seems it didn’t end well. I should get her some food. Excuse us.”

“Of course,” Henry says as he waves a hand to us again. “I hope I see you around.”

“You will,” I mutter as John ushers me away.

“This story is quite interesting,” John tells me in a hushed tone when we are a good distance away. “There is a lot going on and as we weren’t sure who the charge is, Ethan and I have been learning as much as we can for when you came back.” 

I don’t say anything as we enter the kitchen. Ethan is at an industrial stove working on some kind of dish with peppers and beef. John sits me down on a stool at the counter and calls out to Ethan. He turns, smiles at me, and nods to our other friend.

“Didn’t sleep too long,” he observes before he turns his attention back to the food. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” I reply. 

“Then how about food?” he asks me.

“Yes.”

“Shall I tell you what we’ve learned?” John asks me eagerly.

I stay silent as I think about this. 

_ Unfortunately, I’m not dead. If I don’t keep going I’ll end up back at the Citadel dealing with the Council for failing to do my job. Until I either get over this shit, move on, or decide to destroy this body, I should do what I’m supposed to do.  _

I nod to my pale blue skinned friend. He grins.

“The young man you met in the bar is  _ the _ Henry that Miss Roni mentioned the first night we arrived,” John starts quickly. “He holds the title of Author in this story. It seems that this title means he is supposed to be recording stories in a special book. Unfortunately, he and several other characters have been placed under a curse here in Seattle, Washington. Some of them are what Miss Roni called, awake, others are not. Henry is not awake. His daughter, Miss Lucy, is awake while her mother, Ms. Jacinda is not. In fact, Henry and Ms. Jacinda have no idea that they are even married. Ms. Jacinda thinks that another man is Lucy’s father. Henry seems to believe that his wife and child died in a fire. Henry is a one time author here in this world. Right now he is working on something called a blog. It seems to be an article that people read on their…”

“I know about blogs,” I tell John as Ethan sets a plate of beef and peppers with a thick slice of bread before me, “computers, cell phones, internet. Go on with your story.”

John nods as Ethan props himself up on the counters with his forearms and watches me.

“I see, now… Ah, the woman, Drizella, that we saw before. She seems to be one of the stepsisters to Cinderella,” John tells me.

“That’s Ms. Jacinda,” Ethan chimes in. “In her original world, she was Cinderella.”

I give them a nod as I push a fork full of beef into my mouth. The flavors don’t really come through, though I’m sure this dish tastes wonderful. It must be that numbness I’m feeling.

“Drizella is known in this world as Miss Ivy Belfrey,” John says. “Her mother is Victoria Belfrey and it seems that last night she was arrested for kidnapping a woman named Eloise Gardener. Miss Roni doesn’t seem to think that Miss Ivy will be truly upset about this.”

“It seems that mother and daughter do not get along,” Ethan adds, placing his forearms on the countertop and leaning on them. “In fact, they seem to despise each other enough to try and hurt each other as often as they can. Miss Ivy seems to be working some kind of scheme to hurt her mother right now. Miss Roni thinks that’s why and how Mrs. Belfrey is in jail.”

“Is that all the characters?” I ask.

“No, there is another man, Detective Rogers, who Henry seems to be very close to,” John replies.

“Rogers is the one who found Eloise Gardener,” Ethan adds.

“Yeah…” comes the voice of Regina, or Roni, from behind us. I turn my head slightly to look at her out of the corner of my eye. “Eloise Gardener is a curse name by the way. She’s Gothel, a very powerful witch.” Roni comes to stand on the other side of me. She looks at me with concern as I eat. “You feeling any better?”

“Did Ethan tell you guys what happened?” I ask, returning my gaze back to the food.

“Yes,” she says softly. “Losing love is never easy…”

“Shh,” I hiss, interrupting her. “...just tell me what’s going on here, please.”

She nods as she pats my shoulder.

“Ivy’s working with Gothel,” she tells me. 

“To what end?” I ask.

“I don’t know yet,” Roni replies with annoyance at the fact. “But whatever it is, it will be very bad. Gothel is not a good person.”

“I see,” I sigh. “Anyone else from your original world here? I’ve been told about Jacinda, Lucy, Henry, Detective Rogers, Victoria Belfrey and Ivy.”

“Yes, there’s my sister Zelena, she goes by Kelly here,” Roni replies. “She’s not in Seattle though…”

“Who was she in your world?”

“The Wicked Witch. But she’s reformed too,” Roni says quickly. “Then there’s Weaver, uh, Rumplstitlsin’s partner Roger’s. Rogers is Captain Hook from the Wish Realm… Sorry, this is probably really complicated.”

“Not really,” I reply apathetically. “Sounds like a mashup of Disney characters and some extra ones from Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Is that all?”

“Well, no,” Roni says apologetically. “There’s Sabine, who is Jacinda’s best friend, Tilly, who’s Roger’s daughter, not that either of them remembers that… God, there’s just so many. Listen, we’ll introduce you as they come, but the big problem I’m facing right now is that Jacinda and Henry can’t share true love’s kiss. They can’t break the curse, no one can. At least not now.”

“Why?” I ask, looking up at her.

“Ivy, Drizella I mean, back in the other realm, she poisoned Henry’s heart,” Roni says with pained eyes. “The only thing that’s keeping him alive right now is that he doesn’t remember he loves Jacinda. As soon as he remembers and they kiss, the curse will break and he will die.”

“Alright,” I nod, looking back at my food. “No kissing for them, then.”

“Probably best,” Ethan adds. 

“What do we do, Miss Lavinia?” John asks, looking at me earnestly.

“First, we need to figure out who our charge is,” I say as I wipe my mouth on a napkin that Ethan hands me. “After that, we’ll play it by ear.”

“You’re color’s coming back,” Ethan tells me with a soft smile. 

I look at him for a moment then turn back to Roni.

“I need to meet all the people from your world,” I tell her. “I’ll know who the charge is when I see them.”

“...Alright,” she says looking from me to Ethan and then back. “Let me get a jacket… By the way, we put your stuff up in the apartment while you were sleeping.”

“Fine,” I tell her apathetically. 

“Shall we come with you?” John asks.

“No,” I reply as I stand. “There won’t be anything for you to do. Stay here and… Are you two working here?” 

“Yep,” Ethan answers. 

“I see, then keep doing that,” I tell them. Turning to leave for the bar, I get a couple of steps away before I turn back and look at Ethan. “Thank you for the food.”

“You’re welcome,” he tells me softly. “...Lavinia, we’re here for you.”

I look at him for a minute then blink several times, pushing back at tears. Giving him a nod I turn and leave the kitchen. Roni meets me at the bar’s front door. In silence, we go out to the sidewalk and start walking down the street. 

“...We’re going to the police station,” she tells me after several minutes pass. “You can meet Rogers and Weaver first, then we’ll check on everyone else.” I nod in response. Roni goes silent again but she looks at me from time to time as we walk. “You had a lot more spunk the first time I saw you,” she tells me softly. “You must have really been in love.”

I stop walking, my eyes go closed as I try to push down the sudden swell of emotions. The desire to scream and cause damage to something is strong until I feel Roni’s hands touch my shoulders gently. They are warm and the empathy I feel coming from her is genuine.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to recover,” she tells me apologetically. “It’s just that… I’ve never seen a broken heart heal unless it’s dealt with.”

“My existence is nothing but heartbreak,” I tell her softly. Tears are coming now from my closed eyes. “Did Ethan tell you how long I’ve been doing this? Or how everyone I meet will essentially die to me?”

There’s a long silence.

“Yes,” she says softly. “He did tell me that this morning.”

I open my eyes then and look at her.

“Then what good is it to talk about my heart and dead loves?” I ask her sincerely. “I’m just going to keep acquiring more of them.”

“I get it,” she says emotionally. “I’ve lost every man I’ve ever loved. The love of my life was killed right before my eyes. But we can’t dwell…”

“Regina,” I say louder than I mean to. She blinks softly in response. Clearing my throat I speak more calmly, “You have things that you can look forward to. Your son, your granddaughter, friends, and extended family. I have nothing like that. I don’t have anything to ever look forward to. Not even death!”

“You have Ethan and John,” she tells me sternly.

Those words... I feel as if I’ve been struck with a brick right in the chest. I stare at her, my jaw goes slack. 

_ My God… she’s right. I  _ do _ have them. I get to keep them, the Council told me so. And I just treated them so coldly. They will no doubt understand, but… I feel like an absolute twit. _

“I was…” a gasp escapes me, my hands going to my chest. “I was feeling such harsh loss that I forgot about them. I forgot that I get to keep them.”

Roni smiles at me before she pulls me into a hug. 

“I know we’re not close enough for this, but you looked like you needed it,” she whispers.

I nod as I hug her back.

“Damn… Roni, thank you,” I whisper as I pull back. “I still kind of feel like throwing up, but I’m so,” a slight chuckle escapes me then as I look around, thinking of the word, “beholden… yes, beholden to you.”

She laughs at this.

“Well, if you’re gonna do it just aim away from me, these are new boots,” she tells me with a smile and a pat on my back. “But really, you are very welcome. Sometimes we just need someone to help us see the light again.”

I nod and give a small smile. Taking her arm in mine, I nod again and start to walk once more.

“Yes, sometimes we do,” I agree. 

_ I don’t feel better about losing Dean or the rest of the Winchesters. I still want to cause damage to something, anything I can get my hands on. But fully realizing and accepting that John and Ethan are mine and I get to keep them makes a part of me feel infinitely better. Still, these two parts of me are fighting for the top spot to occupy my thoughts. _

When we get to the police station, which is several blocks from the bar, the first room we enter is filled with desks and people. Some in uniform, some in regular street clothes. It looks like any other grey police station, bland and depressing. Roni makes a beeline directly to a desk not far from the door where a rather handsome man with dark hair, scruff on his face, and a leather jacket is cutting into a white frosted two-layer cake. I note that the hand he’s using to hold the cake stand is covered in a black glove. Its stiff, fingers unmoving it might not be real. Possibly a prosthetic. 

“Oh, hey, Rogers,” Roni says to him. He looks up at us and there’s a slight quickening in my stomach. “I’m looking for Weaver. Is he around?”

Rogers stops cutting at the cake, sets the knife down, and looks out the door we’ve just come in.

“Weaver? He’s probably out being a shady, treacherous bastard somewhere,” he tells us with disappointment in a smoky English accent.

“Oh… That’s right,” Roni says apologetically. “I heard how it all went down with Eloise. Where is she now?”

He looks at Roni with a sigh.

“She’s uh, at a transitional home,” he tells us with another sigh. “Um, I’ve promised to keep a watchful eye on her.”

He nods kindly, though the vibe he's giving off is sadness and fatigue.

“Oh?” Roni asks, surprised. “Well, that’s… that’s kind of you.” He smiles at her, thankfully. “From the sounds of it, she’s not the only one who needs help. Henry told me about how Weaver used that girl, Tilly,” she says this with dislike and disappointment. 

“Seems to me like she wanted to be a pawn,” Rogers says irritably.

“You know, people only let themselves be used when they don’t have any other option,” she tells him softly. “So, maybe you can give her one.”

Roni looks at him meaningfully. Rogers stares back for a moment before he closes his eyes and nods. 

“Okay,” he replies, looking back at her. “I’ll reach out to her.”

He gives her a smile again, which she returns. 

“You’re a good cop, Rogers,” she tells him.

He looks at me again and smiles tiredly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself,” he says, extending me a hand to shake; it’s not covered in a glove, it’s flesh. I take it as he says, “I’m Detective Rogers.”

“Hello,” I reply with a half smile. “I’m Lavinia. I’m a friend of Roni’s.”

“Yes,” she agrees quickly. “She just got back from a long trip and is going to be staying with me for a while. I’m just showing her around town.”

I nod to make it seem like Roni’s words are one hundred percent true. The smile he gives me is much more bright now than before.

“Is this your first time in Seattle?” he asks.

“Yes, actually,” I say, realizing that I’m telling the truth. “I’ve been all over the place, but never to Seattle.”

“I hope you enjoy your stay,” he tells me. “If you need anything, you can call me.”

He hands me his card from a holder on his desk. I take it politely and nod.

“Thank you,” I tell him as I look down at it. “That’s really kind.”

“It’s nothing,” he assures me. “Roni’s been a really good friend to me. It only seems fair that I find a way to return the favor.”

Something seems to catch Roni’s eye then. I follow her line of vision. It’s the cake.

“Hey, what’s this?” she asks as she reaches over to turn the cake stand.

“It’s a thank you from Eloise,” he answers her.

“...Oh,” she says with a strained smile.

Then she grabs up the cake stand and drops it into the trash can next to his desk. He and I look at her startled. 

“What the hell was that for?” he asks annoyed.

She rubs her hands together as if she’s shaking off dust her hands.

“Too much sugar will kill ya,” she says as she grabs my arm and pulls me to the door.

“Uh… b-bye, I guess,” I call back to him as I’m led out the door. 

He looks after us with confusion. Once we are a good couple of steps away from the police station I look at her.

“Alright, explain,” I demand. “A lot of that I didn’t understand. Start with the cake.”

“Gothel gave it to him,” she replies. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’s hurt him. See, they have a long history together. She tricked him into helping her get out of a tower that she was trapped in by blood magic. The only way she could leave was if someone from her bloodline took her place. They had a child together and when the baby was just born she left. She didn’t have any intention of taking care of her.”

“And, that’s Tilly?” I ask.

“Yes, in our world she was called Alice,” Roni tells me. 

“Okay. You said that Weaver did something to Tilly?” 

“Yes, he convinced her to try and lead Rogers astray in his investigation for Eloise Gardener,” Roni explains. “No doubt Victoria had something to do with that, but it really doesn’t matter. Gothel should have stayed locked away. Who knows what she’s got planned. She poisoned Roger’s heart so that any time he and Tilly get close to each other, outside of the curse, his heart starts to try and kill him. They’ve been trying for years to find a way to fix that. It’s the same thing that Henry has. They can’t be close to the person they love the most or they die.”

“I see…” I growl softly in my throat. “So, she’s the shitty kind of mother that screws with her kid. We are not going to get along, I can see that now.” 

Roni looks at me out of the corner of her eye.

“You had a child?” 

“I did. Aria. She was five the last time I saw her. …Now, tell me about Weaver. What’s going on with him?”

“Weaver is… a wild card,” she says slowly, looking at the pavement in front of her. “He has a history of being a villain. He met a woman who helped him turn himself around though. When I met him a couple of years ago, she had died and he was trying to find a way to release himself from… Oh, I guess I should tell you who he is, aside from Rumplestiltskin. In my land, he is called the Dark One. A powerful being that is tied to a blade with his name on it. He’s the latest in a long line of people who’ve had their name on that blade. Now, he’s trying to find a way to release himself from the dagger so that he can die and be with his wife, Belle.”

“Holy shit,” I exhale tiredly. “These are some seriously complex storylines.”

“I know,” she laughs bitterly. 

“So, somehow Weaver is trying to get, what essentially sounds like, a curse broken. While maybe or maybe not trying to play the role of a reformed villain?”

“Yep.” 

Roni nods several times.

“Fun,” I say thoughtfully. “Okay, can we trust him?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Grand, well, who can we meet next?”

The only person I end up meeting is a woman named Sabine, Jacinda’s friend. She’s a lovely, dark skinned woman with beautiful curls. Unfortunately, she isn’t one of my charges. We ask around about Tilly and very quickly realize that nobody has a clue about this girl. Eventually, we give up and head back to the bar. It’s evening when we get back. While Roni goes to work the bar, I bus tables and try very hard to stay busy. Ethan and John are working in the kitchen, John is washing dishes while Ethan helps with food. When it’s time to close the bar down, around three in the morning, I’m helping Roni clean the bar top and collect glasses to be washed. She pours me and her a glass of whiskey. I take mine as she shoots hers back and pours herself another.

“Ah, is that how it is?” I ask gently, then I down mine too.

“Yeah, today was one of those kinds of days, don’t you think?” 

I laugh at this as I set my glass down. She quickly refills it and we shoot them together. Roni is pouring another for us as the front door opens. I turn and see an older, light haired man with a sharp nose come walking in. The quickening happens in my stomach as he saunters over to us in his jeans and blue button up shirt.

“You were looking for me?” he asks with a gravely, English accented voice.

“That’s right,” Roni says as she pours him a glass and sets it down at a spot across the bar from her. “Take a seat.

“He’s one of them,” I tell her in a whisper. “Rogers is another.”

Roni nods almost imperceptibly as she waits for him to sit. There’s something about this quickening though, it’s not complete. There’s someone missing. The man takes the glass in his hands and looks at her quizzically.

“What does the name, Rumpelstiltskin mean to you?” she asks slowly, with a measured tone.

Weaver’s mouth is slightly open as he looks at her.

“Rumple...stiltskin?” he says slowly. Then he throws his hands out in confusion, “Well, didn’t he sleep for a hundred years?”

Roni purses her lips in annoyance as she glares at him.

“That was Rip Van Winkle, and we’re not doing this,” she informs him irritably.

He closes his mouth and leans back with a disappointed and tired expression. Then he looks at me.

“Who’s your new bartender?” he asks as he points at me. 

“I’m not,” I reply simply. “I’m Lavinia and it seems that I’m here to help you.”

He laughs.

“Help me?” he asks with mocking disbelief. “With what?”

“Not sure yet,” I reply. “We’ll find out soon enough though.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t need any help with anything,” he says as he starts to stand.

“Stop it,” Roni says angrily. “I’m awake and so are you. ...You’re always awake… And I’m sure you think you have a good reason for pretending you’re not, but it’s time to drop it. Drizella and Gothel are working together, and we both know how bad that’s going to be... for  _ everyone _ , including Henry, your grandson.”

“My grandson?” he says finally breaking his silence. He scoffs as he raises his glass, “I’m not even married.”

Roni rolls her head with annoyance.

“Stop it!” she shouts as she slaps her hands on the bar top. “This isn’t a joke. We need help, Gold. And we both know, as much as I’d like to go to Storybrooke for help, that can’t be done. We can’t get there, and they can’t know we’re here. It’s us against them and we’re here, together. ...Just like it used to be.”

The corner of his mouth goes up in disagreement.

“The only thing we’ve teamed up for is a few happy hours,” he says before he downs the rest of his drink.

He stands then and starts to turn away.

“If you’re keeping your cover because of the Guardian, it’s the wrong move. Belle wouldn’t want this,” she tells him pointedly.

Weaver stops suddenly, stands there for a moment, then turns to look at Roni.

“Who’s Belle?”

Roni looks at him with disappointment and pain.

“Never mind…” she says softly, “Detective. I’ll just have to find help somewhere else.”

He turns back to the door and heads out of the bar. Roni looks at me with disappointment.

“I’m sorry, he can be really stubborn sometimes,” she tells me.

I stare at the door he’s just walked through as I think. 

“Roni, you go get that help you were talking about,” I say quickly as I grab up a small knife from behind the bar. “Tell my boys I’ll be back.”

“Wait! What are you going to do with that knife?” she calls in a panic as I move quickly across the bar floor. “Hey!”

I rush out the door and move down the sidewalk in the direction I saw Weaver go. As I come to the corner of the block I see him getting ready to open the door of a black Dodge Charger. It’s a newer model than the ones I’m used to. Moving quickly I reach the passenger side door and pull it open. Plopping down in the seat I shut the door and turned to look at a very startled man.

“I understand that you feel some kind of connection to me,” Weaver starts to say patiently.

“Hush,” I tell him sternly. “I’m going to tell you a story and you’re going to learn a lesson. Now shut your door and pay attention.” 

He looks at me with slight interest and no subtle hint of exasperation before he finally does as I tell him. With the door shut, I launch into the information of who I am and what I do. He listens to me in silence until I’m finished.

“You expect me to believe all this? Truly?” he asks incredulously.

“Shortly, yes.”

“Well, I think you need to make sure you’re taking your medication properly,” he tells me as he looks out the front window.

“Medication?” I laugh bitterly. “No medication is going to fix me. Have a look, Detective.”

He glances over at me lazily as I pull the knife blade across my left forearm. His eyes go wide as he jumps. Grabbing at my now bleeding arm and the hand with the knife, he pulls them apart.

“What are you doing?!” he shouts.

“Look at my arm,” I tell him calmly.

“I am!”

“No,” I say sternly. “Look  _ at _ it. It’s healed.”

He looks at where the wound had been. All that’s left is a smudge of blood. My arm is perfectly fine. 

“H-How is… I just saw you…” he stutters.

“I am as I said I am,” I assure him. “I am here to help you do something important. I cannot die and I will complete my mission because that is all that I am and all that I do. Now, if you are as powerful as Roni says that you are and you are awake then you need to talk to me. It is imperative that you let me do my job.”

Weaver stares at me with his mouth open, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. I nod to him with reassuring encouragement.

“I… I…” he whispers. “I’m just…”

“Are you awake?” I ask smoothly. He doesn’t move at first, then he nods once. “Why are you hiding this from Roni?”

“I’m not ready to show my hand just yet,” he says softly, it’s almost a low growl. 

“I see, then I shall keep it to myself,” I assure him again. “Now, you need to understand something, because as I’ve learned from her, you have a history of doing things that hurt other people. That’s fine, I hardly care. But, do not try to do something to me.”

“You just said you don’t care,” he reminds me with a cocky smirk.

“My sole job is to take care of you, you are my charge,” I tell him sternly. “If you harm me even if you think it’s for a good reason, you will be harming yourself. Do  _ not _ do that.”

Weaver looks at me in silence for a moment, he’s studying me. 

“How do I know I can trust you?” 

“I have two hundred and ninety-two years of doing this job. I have a perfect record of success. I have killed countless numbers, I have died and resurrected over and over, I am slowly evolving, all in the service of protecting and helping my charges. You will succeed because I will make it so. Do you believe me?”

Weaver watches me speak, a moment of silence passes, then he tilts his head quizzically.

“Evolving?” 

I show him my fangs and then my claw like nails.

“There are other things too, but I don’t think they’ll come in to play here. Now, what is your goal?”

“...I’m trying to find a person called the Guardian so that I can pass my dagger on to them. I found one once and… Well, I couldn’t give it to her.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it would have meant she would have to live forever carrying my burden,” he says, his tone soft and sad. “She’d already had to deal with so many before that, I just couldn’t bear to do that to her.”

I look at him for a moment and finally see the tired eyes, the wrinkles of sorrow. He’s had a very long life too and he’s ready for it to be over. 

“Is it to get to your wife?” I finally ask. “Is this how you would achieve that?”

“Roni’s told you about me, I see,” he sighs. “Her name was Belle and yes.”

“Partially. It was a quick course. I was trying to find my charges and she was trying to explain who everyone is.”

“Charges?”

“It’s incomplete.” I shake my head. “I can feel it. There was a quickening for you and Detective Rogers, but we’re missing someone or several someones still. You all will have a goal, an event that you need to reach together.”

“Would they have to be from our world?” he asks, trying to be helpful.

“No idea, they will just be connected to you somehow.”

“That’s not a lot to go on,” he tells me skeptically.

“No,” I agree. “But I’ve had less.”

“And you’ve still succeeded?”

I nod several times.

“So, your goal is to find a Guardian, get rid of your dagger, die, and go see your wife in the afterlife. Yes?”

“Yes.”

I think for a minute on this and nod again.

“I believe I will be helping you with that.”

“How?” he asks skeptically. “I’ve been searching for decades for a way to make this happen.”

“Well, how lucky for you that I came along,” I tell him with a pushed smile. “From now on, you make sure I’m tagging along with you everywhere, especially when it comes to anything that involves the people from your world.”

He scoffs.

“That’s going to be a little complicated. Don’t you think?”

“Hardly. Either I can come to stay at your place or you will come to Roni’s to collect me. I have companions who will be assisting us as needed.”

“Companions?” he asks me skeptically. “And no, you are not going to come live with me.”

I snort rudely at his concern.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’ll stay here. Give me your phone.”

I hold out my left hand and wait for him to lay his smartphone in my open palm. Tapping the screen on my communication device, my forearm shines brightly, I lay his phone on top of it and add myself to his contacts. His mouth drops open as he watches.

“Why didn’t you just show me that instead of cutting yourself,” he demands with exasperation.

“Because blood is far more effective at getting people’s attention,” I reply as I hand him back his phone. “Now, for the duration of this mission, you will be able to get a hold of me. Keep me abreast of what is going on and I shall do the same with you. Go get some sleep, you’re tired.”

I reach for the door handle as he clears his throat.

“You didn’t tell me about your companions,” he reminds me.

Opening the car door, I stop and turn back to Weaver.

“Ah, yes, Ethan Chandler, the wolf-man, and John Clare, Frankenstein's first creation,” I tell him then step out onto the pavement. “My door sent them to me from a story I’d finished a while back.”

“Why would it do that?” 

I bend down so we can see each other still and shrug at him. 

“No idea. Possibly because it knew I was running on fumes from loneliness. That’s just a wishful thinking theory though. Have a good night, Detective.”

“...Yeah… you too,” he says as he looks at his phone.

I shut the door then and walk back to the Bar. When I get back, Roni’s talking to Ethan and John at the bar. They all perk up and look at me quizzically. 

“Everything okay?” Roni asks eagerly.

“Yes. Who are you going to be getting help from?” I ask, trying to redirect her attention from Weaver.

“You mean it didn’t go well with Weaver?” she asks, disappointed. “Wait, you didn’t… kill him… did you?”

I laugh suddenly at her words and shake my head.

“No, I don’t kill my charges. He’s gone home. Count him out for now.”

She nods.

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to go to my sister in San Francisco,” she tells me nervously. “It’s going to be messy… the curse made things really difficult for us.”

“Alright, you do that tomorrow,” I say thoughtfully. “I’m going to stick with Weaver until the other charge, or charges, show up.”

“So, you found one,” Ethan says with relief.

“Two,” I nod. “And I’ve also got a little of myself back too…” I look at Ethan and John apologetically. “I’m sorry for how I treated you this morning. Please, forgive me.”

“Tis already been forgotten,” John assures me. 

“We understood,” Ethan assures me. 

Roni smiles at us and gives us a satisfied nod. 

“Well, then,” she says with a grin. “We should all go to bed. There’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Certainly,” I say as I wrap an arm around each of John and Ethan’s waist.

“The question that we need to answer now is, where are you guys going to sleep?” Roni asks as she looks up at the ceiling.

“If you got floor space,” I start to tell her.

“And maybe a couple’a blankets?” Ethan adds.

“That would be plenty,” John agrees. 

She grins at us again, “That I got you covered.”

With the bar locked up, lights turned off, we head upstairs to start making pallets on the ground in the living room. The guys have their own bedrolls that they pull out of their belongings. I pull out my yoga rug and lay it down next to John’s. Taking turns in the bathroom we get ready for the night. While John is having his turn, I dig into my bag trying to find something to sleep in that won’t drive me crazy. Ethan won’t mind, but John isn’t exactly ready to sleep next to me while I’m practically naked. Roni, I doubt would care if I did. 

As I pull out a couple of folded clothes I find, sandwiched in between a pair of jeans and a Victorian era vest, one of Dean’s shirts. It’s black, soft cotton, and it smells like him. I hold it against my face with my eyes closed and inhale. His face comes to my mind, laughing at something. I feel tears come to my eyes as I hold it against my chest. 

Just a day ago he was holding me in his arms. His big, rough fingers not wanting to let go of my smaller ones. Someday, this shirt won’t smell like him anymore. Someday, this shirt will fall apart from age and I will have to let it go. Someday, I will be so far away from him that it will feel like a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearies! I hope you're staying warm because at my house it is currently -6 F. It hasn't been this cold in our area in over ten years! So, yay snow, yay less bugs for summer, yay no school! I don't have school, thank God, but my kid does and if she doesn't have to get up early, I don't have to get up early :D Happy Monday!

Henry is sitting at the bar, four bottles of beer are lined up a little ways off while a fifth sits in front of him. His eyes are closed as he hangs his head. I’m watching this as I clean cups behind the bar. I’ve handed him each one of those bottles. Each one he’s downed quickly without a word. Roni comes down from the apartment with a bag in her hand and walks over to us curiously. I give her a pointed look then nod to her son. As she gets closer she bends slightly to look at his face.

“Are you drunk?” she asks him with surprise.

He turns his head, cheek still on the bartop, and looks at her. Henry blinks a couple times then shakes his head, more to himself then to Roni.

“Why do people even fall in love anyway?” he asks, his voices slightly muffled by his smooshed mouth. “It’s supremely masochistic, it’s a colossal waste of time,” Roni comes around behind the bar, next to me, “ _ and _ , it’s stupid.”

She looks at him in disbelief before she shakes her head.

“You don’t believe that,” she tells him knowingly.

“I like him,” I murmur.

He nods his head.

“Mmhmm,” he hums. “Mmhmm.”

Roni looks at me with mild annoyance before she sighs.

“Did something happen? With Jacinda?” her tone suggests that she’s really hoping something didn’t.

Henry exhales as he grabs up his current beer bottle and says, “More like nothing happened with Jacinda.”

Then he takes a swig. Roni inhales sharply with something close to hope and disappointment on her face. Henry doesn’t notice as he chuckles and nods to himself.

“Maybe Lucy’s right,” he says, more to himself than us. “Maybe we really are all cursed.”

Roni snatches the bottle from his hand and grabs the others to put them in the trash. 

“Oh, hey! Hey,” Henry calls sloppily.

His mother glares at him annoyed.

“Enough,” she orders him. “You know, you and Jacinda aren’t the only ones who are stuck.”

“Preach!” I say as I grab for another wet glass to dry. 

Henry looks at me with half-closed eyes.

“Victoria Belfrey may be locked up,” Roni goes on. “But we have bigger problems now. And we need help.”

“Problems? Help?” Henry says closing his eyes and holding his hands out questioningly. “What are you talking about?”

“Just trust me,” Roni pleads with him. “I’m out of options here in Hyperion Heights, so I’m going to San Francisco.”

_ Hyperion Heights must be the community we’re in right now. _

“Okay, what the hell is in San Francisco?”

“Someone Victoria Belfrey pushed out of Hyperion Heights a long time ago… Someone who can help us.”

“Great,” he says, still rather clueless.

“...Someone who hates me with every fiber of their being,” Roni says as she closes her eyes.

“Less great,” Henry adds.

“But as I said,” Roni goes on. “We’re out of options. And you,” she says as she takes his hand and leans over the bar top, “Henry Mills… could definitely use a change of scenery. So, what do you say, hmm? Up for a road trip?”

He chuckles at this and leans a little closer.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest with ya,” he replies sloppily. “I’m… pretty drunk right now, and I’m pretty sure I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. But I do love the idea of leaving the Heights for a while. And I do have the perfect playlist.” Roni grins at this. “So, yeah… Let’s do it. Let’s hit the road.”

They both chuckle at this and a small smile comes to my face. 

“Yay! Road trip,” I say softly, waving my fists in the air encouragingly. 

Roni looks at me happily.

“I’ll call a friend of mine to come in and bartend,” she tells me. Then to Henry, “We’ll swing by your place, Henry, and get you some clothes.”

“Cool,” he tells her groggily. 

Roni goes around the bar and collects her son. With a wave to me, they are out the door. A little time goes by while I continue to wipe glasses dry. Eventually, a balding man with round glasses comes in and smiles at me.

“Hey, I’m Remy,” he tells me as he comes around to the bar. “Roni called me to come temp for her.”

“Oh! Cool,” I say with a return smile as I go to shake his hand. “I’m Lavinia, I’m kind of just filling in here and there. I’ll help where I can.”

“Sounds good. Roni said that this wasn’t your main gig so if you had to run out for something that I shouldn’t worry.” 

I give him a nod and silently thank Roni for giving me an alibi. 

“Yes. I hope it won’t be too much of a pain. I’ll try to be as courteous as I can.”

He grins at me just as my communication device rings.

“Oh, excuse me, I need to take this call,” I tell him as I step out from behind the bar and go to a quiet spot.

I look at the screen on my forearm.

[Weaver calling...]

I touch the answer button.

“Hey,” he says in his gravelly voice. “Got something you’re gonna want to be in on. Victoria Belfrey is getting out of jail.”

“I’ve heard that that would be a bad thing.”

“She’s got information on the Guardian.”

“Ah, so you’ve made a deal with her. Can she be trusted?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Alright, how do you want to play this?”

“How fast can you get to the police station?”

“Twelve minutes,” I reply, looking at the time on my arm. “Six if I run.”

“I would suggest you do a mild jog,” he replies, then he hangs up.

Turning off my communication device screen, I head for the kitchen to tell Ethan and John about the phone call.

“I will be back when I can,” I tell them. “Stay here and keep your ears open.”

“Will do,” Ethan replies.

“Would it not be best if one of us came with you?” John asks.

“If I knew what all was going to be happening,” I reply sadly, “possibly. But this woman seems dangerous and I’m still figuring out the lay of the land. For now, hold off.”

John nods as I give them a wave and take off for the street. My wedge heeled boots are not the best for running in, but it doesn’t stop me from making it to the station in time to see Weaver and a very posh looking woman walking out the front doors. Her short bob and well manicured, many ringed fingers only cement the fact that this woman has money. I’m assuming this is Victoria Belfrey. Detective Rogers is there as well. He looks and sounds angry as he glares at the woman.

“...I didn’t ask for a TED talk,” Rogers snaps at her. “I’m asking how you managed to side step your charges.”

“I’m afraid that honor goes to you,” Weaver tells him pointedly. “You failed to get a warrant.”

I come closer, silently, as I watch this conversation.

“I had exigent circumstance,” Rogers retorts with a growl as he comes closer to Weaver. “There was immediate danger.”

Victoria gets into the front seat of Weaver’s Charger.

“Judge didn’t see it that way,” Weaver replies as he notices me out of the corner of his eye. 

“Don’t you mean you made certain he didn’t?” Rogers demands. Weaver gives him a half smile. “You dress it up any way you want. I know you’re getting something out of this arrangement. Come clean with it now, or I’ll go dig it up myself.”

Weaver steps closer and pats Rogers on the hip as he says, “I’d advise against that, Detective. Or has ignoring me not done enough damage already?”

There is silence between them then as Weaver goes to the driver’s side door. He looks at the back passenger side door, then me. I nod and like a whisper, quietly get in. Rogers doesn’t pay me any attention as he’s glaring at Weaver. When we are in with the doors shut, Weaver speaks to Victoria.

“Congratulations. You’re a free woman. This is my associate,” he tells her as he indicates with his hand to me. Victoria looks over her shoulder at me for a moment and decides I’m of little importance to her. “She will be accompanying us. Now, where’s Anastasia?”

“How do I know that I can trust her,” Victoria says with annoyance in a dry, high society British accent. “I’ve never met her before.”

“That hardly matters,” I inform her. “All you need to know is that I’m here to take care of him. Do your part, play nicely, and everything will be fine.”

“Is that a threat?” she snaps as she looks back at me, glaring.

“Most assuredly,” I reply with a nod. 

“She’s fine,” he tells Victoria dismissively. “Now, where is she?”

Victoria glares as she measures me up once more. Slowly she turns back to the front window.

“It does me no good to get to my daughter without the means to wake her. We have a few stops to make.”

She then instructs Weaver to drive us to an upscale business building. Victoria quickly gets out, instructing us to stay put, while she runs up to grab something.

“What is this place?” I ask him as I look out the window and up at the giant structure. 

“It’s where her company is, Belfrey Developments.” 

“What exactly is going on?” I ask, looking back at him. “What’s this about her daughter?”

“Her daughter, Anastasia, is stuck in the moment of her last breath by magic,” he tells me, finally looking back. “She’s been trying to find a way to wake her up. It seems she’s found that way and is trying to set the wheels in motion.”

“Huh,” I reply deeply in thought. “Doesn’t she have another daughter?”

“Drizella, or Ivy, as she’s called here,” Weaver informs me with a deep nod.

“Yes. I heard that they despise one another. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Why despise one and go balls to the walls to try and wake another up from almost death?”

“That,” he says sharply, “is the million dollar question.”

“Glad we are on the same page,” I reply softly as I look back at the building.

“Did you ever hear the story of Rapunzel?”

“Yes.”

“She’s Rapunzel. And the stepmother to Cinderella.”

“Someone had a field day with your stories,” I mutter. “What a mess.”

“Those fairy tales you were read as a child are just the shiny versions of what our lives are really like,” he tells me.

I laugh at the pomposity of what he’s just said. He looks back at me.

“No, sweetie,” I tell him kindly. Turning my attention from the building back to Weaver again. “This has the makings of a rebooted, fanfiction, crossover with lots of money. I come from the world where the stories are all written. Your story might feel like the most true to you, but the truth is still the truth. This is not the original, at all. Still, as long as a good lesson can be gleaned from it, it is worthwhile.”

He looks at me startled by this news just as Victoria opens the door and gets in. 

“Next, we need to go to Jacinda’s apartment,” she tells us. 

Weaver blinks at me, clears his throat, then turns the car on as he turns his attention to the road. Quickly we take off down the street to a packed brown brick apartment building. Once again, Victoria leaves us alone in the car to do some business. I wonder why all this needs to be done. How will it help her wake her daughter? If Weaver is wondering the same thing, he isn’t sharing his questions with me.

Forty minutes later we arrive at a mausoleum. As we get out, Weaver looks back behind us, then to me. He pushes his chin out, indicating a parked car at the corner before he goes to the trunk of his car. I casually look around as I shut my door. In a sedan parked at the corner behind us is a woman with auburn hair in the passenger seat and Drizella behind the wheel. I turn around then and follow Victoria to a set of stairs going down. Weaver follows behind me, with a crowbar in his hand.

Going down the stairs he says to Victoria, “You know we’re being followed, been with us since the police station.”

“I’m aware,” Victoria replies as she pays careful attention to where her stilettos are placed on each step. “I’m not concerned. There’s a plan for those two.” 

The interior of the mausoleum is grey marble and dusty. It seems that there isn’t a cleaning crew taking care of this place. Victoria leads us to a section of wall vaults and points to one in the middle. 

“There,” she says without emotion. “Open it.”

Weaver readies himself and then starts slamming an end of his crowbar into the marble slab covering the vault. It’s quick work. He and I peer into the dark hole as Victoria goes over to it and pulls the sliding tray out. What’s on top is not a body, but a big, black, designer purse.

“I was rather expecting a body,” he tells her.

I hear a satisfied hum from Victoria before she replies with, “Glad I can still get one over on Rumplestiltskin.”

Victoria unzips the purse and checks the contents. Weaver and I watch her dumbfounded.

“You’re planning a trip?” Weaver asks.

“No,” Victoria replies as she continues to dig through it. “Inside here is all I need to awaken Anastasia.”

“You seem to be jumping through a lot of hoops,” Weaver says with slight sarcasm, “to reunite with one daughter… when the other waits just outside.” He points to the stairs we descended. Victoria glares at him for a moment before she zips the purse with a fierce jerk. “I had a son…” Weaver goes on as Victoria crosses her arms, “who thought as little of me as Ivy does of you. But I never stopped trying to make things right with him.”

“Good for you,” she replies with a soft hiss.

“My son… Bae… meant the world to me. And I lost him.”

A deep, shaky sigh escapes Victoria as her eyes get glassy.

“Don’t compare your grief to mine,” she orders him, her voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

She starts to move past Weaver, but I step up to block her way.

“So, let me get this straight,” I say with unveiled annoyance. “You’ve got a kid who wants your attention. Wants to be loved by you, her mother, and you’re blowing her off because you like the other one more?”

Victoria turns her glare to me now. 

“That girl hasn’t been my daughter for a long time now.”

“Oh? Did you guys change out DNA?” I ask sarcastically. 

“Don’t be absurd,” she snaps at me. “I was separated from her for a short while and she quickly found someone else to be her mother. Just like she’s currently doing with Gothel.”

I stare at her for a moment, my mouth slightly open in shock.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I whisper angrily. 

“I assure you, I’m not. Now move.”

The cork on my emotions comes off then and I snatch her arm up in my strong hand. She winces as she looks back at me shocked.

“How dare you…” Victoria starts.

“Shut your mouth, you dumb cow,” I hiss lowly. “You want to talk about grief and loss of a child? I was ripped away from my five-year-old daughter and forced never to see her again. That was two hundred and sixty-four years ago. On top of that, I was punished for mourning the loss of her. But perhaps that’s not recent enough for you. Let’s talk about the boy I practically adopted a little while ago, who considered me a mother to him. I was ripped away from him too, just to come here. I’ve loved every child that comes into my life and you sit here acting like you have the right to cherry-pick which one of your biological children you want?!” Victoria looks at me with wide eyed shock. I squeeze her arm and pull her closer to whisper in an acidic tone, “The horrors that will befall you from this moment on are well deserved.”

Then I shove her away from me roughly. She stumbles slightly on her stiletto heels as she grabs her, no doubt, bruised arm. Weaver doesn’t seem to mind my actions or the fact that I’ve probably hurt this woman. He just clasps his hands together in front of him and looks Victoria directly in the eye.

“I know what it’s like to seek reunion. There are costs involved,” he warns her.

“And wouldn’t you have paid them?” Victoria asks him, her voice thick with emotion. She looks at me then. “Wouldn’t you?”

“For me, that isn’t a possibility,” I tell her. “It’s like trying to rewrite physics.”

She looks at me curiously before Weaver replies, “I did. And then some.”

Victoria swallows and shakes her head slightly.

“Well, then, you know I can’t stop,” she takes a deep, hitching breath. “Not now that I finally have a way.”

Once more she tries to go around Weaver. This time, however, it is him that stops her.

“If you have what you need,” he says to her, “where’s the information you promised me on the Guardian?”

“Oh, you’ll get it…” Victoria replies haughtily. “Once Anastasia’s awake.”

An animalistic growl escapes me then. 

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” I snap. “I can rip you apart, piece by piece until you give him what you promised.”

“I seriously doubt…” she starts.

“I once ripped the head off a man and threw it at his brothers,” I interrupt her. “I am stronger than any human being you’ve ever met.”

The eyes that look at me are filled with horror. Victoria looks like a gasping fish.

“Lavinia,” Weaver says softly, “I think we’ll let Ms. Belfrey have this one, for now.”

“...If that is how you’d like to play this,” I reply slowly as I continue to stare her down.

I step out of the way so that Victoria can quickly  _ clack _ away, out the back exit.

“We’ll stay here,” Weaver tells me when she’s out of sight. “I’d like to have a chat with the other two outside.”

“You believe they will be coming down here?” 

“No doubt,” he replies with a curt nod. “They want to know where Anastasia’s body is too.”

“Why?” 

“Ivy wants the magic that’s in her sister’s body. She wants to take it and get back at her mother.”

“These people make me sick,” I mutter.

The sound of footsteps comes to us softly at first. Pretty soon Ivy comes around a corner with another woman behind her. The other woman is pale with fiery red hair, some of which is braided while the rest is left in flowing waves. She has a very hippie look to her appearance until you look at her face. Her expression is cold calculation. This must be Gothel.

“Well, well, well,” Weaver says as they come to stop in front of us. “You certainly took your time.”

“Oh, look, Roni’s friend…” Ivy says as she looks at me appraisingly. “Shouldn’t you be at the bar?”

“What I do is no concern of yours,” I reply flatly. 

The wide-eyed shock she gives me is obviously fake.

“Well, that was rather rude,” she says, thinking herself quite clever. “But I would expect nothing less of one of Roni’s friends. I suppose she’s told you a thing or two about me.”

“No.”

I stare at her with little emotion for a while. When she realizes she isn’t going to get anything else from me she looks to Weaver.

“Where’s Victoria?” she asks.

“Oh, your mother’s long gone, princess,” he tells her with his arms crossed as he leans against the wall. Ivy rolls her head in annoyance, crossing her arms, as he goes on, “Piece of advice, next time you want to tail someone… learn how to do it better first.”

She glares at him.

“Come on,” she tells Gothel. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Run ahead, Drizella,” Gothel says in an interesting accent I can’t quite place as she looks at Weaver. “Mother Gothel needs a moment.”

“...Fine. Talk until the sun sets if you want,” Ivy turns and leaves.

Gothel’s face expresses annoyance with the young woman once she’s passed. 

“That one speaks too much,” she says with displeasure.

Gothel steps forward, encouraging Weaver to do the same.

“Indeed,” Weaver agrees. “But she’s really bought into your, um… maternal routine.” He gives her a fake smile. “Why is it you call yourself ‘Mother Gothel’? I mean, you’re no mother to them. And you’re certainly no nun.”

Her face is as placid as a lake sheltered from any kind of breeze.

“‘Mother’ means different things to different people,” she says pointedly, then she starts to walk around him. Looking around the chamber casually. Glancing at me, she continues, “I tend to their needs, as I can tend to yours.”

A chuckle comes from Weaver.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

She tilts her head slightly in disagreement.

“Are you?” Gothel asks Weaver. “Because life seems to have you glum nowadays. I never thought I’d see a pout on the Dark One. Nor love in his heart.”

“No, I suppose it’s a time for firsts,” he replies.

“How is Belle, by the way?”

This question sends Weaver spinning around and glaring at her.

“Don’t you dare… say her name,” he orders her sternly.

“Ooh, that struck a nerve,” she says completely unfazed by his snarl. “You know you’re never getting back to her. Not on your own. But with me…”

“No, no. I don’t serve anyone,” he tells her, shaking his head. “And I’ve already got someone helping me.” Weaver glances at me, which causes Gothel to look at me for the first time with real interest. “There’s nothing you can do to stop Belfrey from waking Anastasia now.”

“Hm…” Gothel says as she looks me over, “perhaps you and I should become better acquainted.”

“From what I’ve heard,” I reply slowly. “I’d rather kill you.”

She pretends fright at my words before she looks back at Weaver.

“Rapunzel, Lady Tremaine, Victoria Belfrey,” Gothel says with disgust. “Whatever role she’s assuming today… You neglected to ask her the cost of what she hopes to do. Why is that?”

“Well, you tell me,” Weaver replies cattily.

“Reawakening Belfrey’s biddy, that little Guardian child, is going to cost the loss of an innocent’s belief.”

Weaver glares at her irritably.

“If you want to tell me something, why don’t you just say it,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Do you have any idea…” she says slowly. “Where your great-granddaughter is right now?”

He blinks for a moment before he looks at me.

“We need to go,” he tells me urgently.

Moving swiftly past Gothel, I join Weaver as we head to the stairs and out to his car. He’s pulling out his phone and calling someone.

“Yeah, this is Detective Weaver,” he says with authority. “I need to put out an APB for a, Lucy Vidrio. She’s ten years of age, brown skin, brown hair, brown eyes. Mother is Jacinda Vidrio… Yes… Last place she should have been was at the dance studio on Sixth and Elm... Report only to me on this...Thank you.”

Hanging up the phone, Weaver gets in the car and starts it. 

“Explain,” I tell him as I buckle my seatbelt.

“A true believer of fairy tales is a rare and powerful thing,” he informs me. “The loss of such belief is also a powerful thing. Belfrey is going to strip that belief from Lucy to wake her daughter.”

“I see, so magic is in the belief. Why are you in a panic about Lucy? Would Victoria hurt her?”

“I don’t think so. But as she’s said, she would do anything for her daughter,” he says with a growl.

My arms cross over my chest as I think about this. 

“I’ve dealt with some nasty shit,” I confess to him. “But you guys are big on hurting kids around here, huh?”

He goes silent as he looks out the front window.

“...I never wanted to hurt my son. But I was a coward who let darkness into my heart.” I don’t reply, leaving silence to fill the car again. Then Weaver asks, “What was your daughter’s name?”

“Aria. She was lovely, funny, smart… And I’d have killed anyone who hurt her.”

“...I did, for my son,” he tells me softly. “But it ended up just opening a door that I couldn’t shut for a long time... Why is it you could never go back to see her? Surely you could have found a way.”

“When you become a Traveler, you are no longer in control of your life,” I tell him softly. “I am a slave to the Citadel. It isn’t up to me where I go, so I have never been allowed to return. Now, she’s long gone and so is my husband. But even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t be the same person they used to know and love.”

“I see,” he says quietly. “I understand that and… I’m sorry for your loss.”

I look at him now with curiosity. 

“You are an interesting man,” I confess. “There’s a complexity I can appreciate in you. Perhaps it’s because we’re so old?”

He laughs at this with mild bitterness.

“Perhaps, though, I’m much older than yourself.”

“After the first hundred and fifty years, it all kind of stops being important,” I reply simply, waving my hand dismissively in the air.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

We reach the area that Lucy is supposed to have had her dance lessons just as the sun goes down. When we get out and head up a set of stairs to a small square of business fronts an officer in uniform comes up to us.

“Any sign of her?” Weaver asks.

“Not yet, sir,” she replies as she holds out a backpack. “We found this here.” He takes it and starts to go through the contents. “Are you sure you don’t want us to reach out to her mother?”

The bag is filled with books and clothes.

“That’s the one place I know she won’t be found,” he tells the officer.

Then he pulls out a pink cased smartphone with, ‘Lucy’ in sticker letters on the back.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath.

Weaver sighs at this too. 

_ We could have tracked her with that. _

“Keep searching,” he tells the officer. 

“Yes, sir,” she replies. 

“And remember…” he says as she starts to go. “You report only to me on this matter.”

“Understood,” she replies before she heads out.

Suddenly, Rogers walks up to us, looking at me curiously before glaring at Weaver. The older detective exhales sharply and puts his finger up.

“I really don’t have time for you right now,” he tells Rogers.

“Well, make time,” Rogers snaps at him as he holds up a pad of paper with a squiggly bladed dagger drawn on it. “Who the hell are you looking for?”

Weaver’s face remains neutral as he quickly snatches the pad away from the other detective and rips the page out.

“This is my business and, therefore, none of yours.”

He throws the pad back at Rogers.

“Says the guy questioning witnesses in my case,” Rogers retorts, trying to fix his slightly crumpled notepad. “I’ve been in your locker. You have files on half of Hyperion Heights. Now, I can’t tell if you’re a dirty cop or the best one I know. One minute you’re speaking to me in riddles. The next… the next you’re shutting me out. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something that you want to tell me, so spit it out!”

Weaver looks at me out of the corner of his eye, I wait on him patiently to lead the charge.

“...I’m looking for someone,” he tells Rogers apprehensively. “Much as you were with Eloise Gardener.”

“What does Belfrey have to do with that?”

“I thought she could help me,” he replies sincerely. “I was wrong.” Weaver shakes his head and exhales deeply. “Look, this is… This is really hard to put into words. But I’ve been separated from my wife… Belle. And I would do anything to get to her. I don’t know how else to put it. But this… All of this… is in service to that.”

Rogers stares at the other man in annoyance.

“That is the least believable thing you’ve ever said to me,” Rogers spits out. Weaver looks at me and shakes his head. He goes to take my arm and pull me back to the car as Rogers reaches out and catches his. “And yet- and yet I believe it,” Rogers says when we look back at him. “Just let me help you.”

Weaver nods his head eagerly and I wonder how close these two men were in their world.

“Yeah, okay,” Weaver replies.

Rogers nods to his partner then looks at me.

“Now, mind explaining what you are doing with him?”

“Well,” I reply thoughtfully, “I’m a specialist who is here to help Detective Weaver and… it would seem I’m here to help you as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Rogers asks in disbelief.

“Just trust her,” Weaver encourages. “We’re going to need her.”

“Wa… I, well…” he stammers. Rogers looks at me then Weaver, who nods slightly. This gets me a slight shrug and a weak smile from Rogers. “Alright, so what do we do?”

“Tonight, we find Lucy at all costs,” Weaver tells him.

“Lucy’s gone missing?” Rogers asks, startled.

“Yes,” I reply with a nod. “We aren’t sure where she is and it is very, very important that we find her. Victoria Belfrey might have something to do with this.”

“Belfrey?” Rogers starts. “Why would she want to hurt her own granddaughter…”

Rogers’ phone rings, cutting him off. He picks it up.

“Hello, Detective Rogers… Sabine, yes, I… Lucy’s at the hospital?” Rogers says as he looks at us with wide eyes.

“Shit, so something did happen,” I say to Weaver. He nods as I think for a moment then ask, “Isn’t there some way to track Victoria?” 

Rogers’ waves at us urgently as he starts to write something down on his notepad while he is still listening to the woman on the phone. When Rogers’ done he rips the page off and hands it to Weaver. I look at what’s been written. It’s a series of numbers and letters.

“It’s her car’s tracking number,” Rogers tells us in a whisper. 

“Fantastic,” I smile at him genuinely.

“Good work,” Weaver tells him as he holds the paper up. “You take care of Lucy, we’ve got Belfrey.”

Rogers nods before we turn and move swiftly to Weaver’s car. Once inside, Weaver puts the number into a computer attached to his dash. What comes back is that her car is at a hospital in Hyperion Heights. Weaver nods to the screen and starts the car, then puts it into motion.

“What exactly is your connection to Rogers and Tilly?” I ask.

“In this world, Tilly is an informant while Rogers is my partner,” Weaver tells me simply. “In the other world, they are father and daughter, unable to be with each other because of Gothel.”

“Who is Tilly’s mother,” I say, remembering what Roni told me. Weaver nods. “Do you care about them?”

There is a moment of silence before he nods again.

“Tilly is a sweet girl,” he tells me with sincerity. “She just wants to be with her papa and I want to help her achieve that goal. Rogers, or Hook as I’ve known him, wants to be with his daughter more than anything else.”

“Sounds like you guys have a lot in common,” I reply knowingly. “Perhaps that is what I’m supposed to do. Help you all achieve your dreams. And perhaps she’s the other charge...”

“That sounds like a lot for one person,” he tells me skeptically as he turns the wheel.

I laugh half-heartedly and nod.

“Yes, well, that is kind of how my life is. One person doing the job of three to five other people.”

“Ho-ho! Three to five,” he chuckles brightly. “Someone thinks highly of themselves.”

“Not really,” I respond tiredly. “I’ve just recently been given the statistics of my work.”

“Is that so?”

“Last story I was in I had to fight angels, demons, demigods, and a seventeen story monster from another world. Traveled to an apocalypse world to save a bunch of people  _ and _ deal with Lucifer and his temper tantrums. Among other things…” I exhale softly before rubbing at my forehead. “Before that, I was dealing with ninjas, samurai in feudal-era Japan, and a girl from the future. I do a lot.”

Weaver raises his eyebrows and nods in agreement.

“Where was the boy you adopted?” he asks me, his tone gentle.

“He was in the last story,” I reply, as I rub at my suddenly stinging eyes irritably. “He was a Nephilim who wanted so badly to prove himself capable of good.”

“Did he succeed?” 

I smile and nod.

“Most definitely.”

“You must have done your job as a mother,” he tells me encouragingly.

I look up at the ceiling of the car when he says this and bite my bottom lip. Weaver must see the tears pooling up at the corners of my eyes. He clears his throat as he pulls into a parking lot.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

This makes me laugh and I just let the tears fall as I shake my hand in the air.

“No. There isn’t any reason to apologize. I just miss him and the others. It was just days ago that I left.”

“Others?” Weaver asks softly as he turns off the car.

I nod as we get out. With a slightly forced, though sad smile, I look at him as we walk together to the hospital doors.

“He had people taking care of him, his other adopted family,” I tell Weaver as we walk. “Two brothers, their mother, and an angel. We became very close…”

There’s a moment of thoughtful silence.

“...You fell in love, didn’t you?”

“You are terribly perceptive,” I tell him softly. 

“Well, in my line of work I had to be. I peddled in magic and wish granting. Can’t give people what their hearts most desire if you can’t read them.”

I nod at this.

“True.”

“Seems to me that it would be rather a bad idea to fall in love or get attached to anyone in your line of work,” Weaver says as we stop at an information kiosk. 

He types in Anastasia Belfrey and is given her floor and room number.

“It certainly is. And I was trained, all Travelers are, to not allow ourselves to do that. The problem is that it never stuck with me and so I end up in pain a lot. The people who are in charge of me do not like me because of this. However, we’ve recently had a chat about my way of doing things and how I never fail a mission even though I get attached to my charges and other characters. I don’t think they will bother me again.” I tell him this as I think of my threat to The Council. “Though… I have to say, I haven’t been  _ in _ love with anyone since I was taken away from my family. That was kind of a big shock for me.”

“That’s love for you,” he says as we get into an elevator. “She doesn’t come gently in the night, she beats you over the head with a brick.” A burst of laughter comes from me suddenly. This seems to bring a smile to Weaver’s face as he tucks his hands into his jacket pockets. “There,” he says with a smile, “you look much more lovely when you have that expression.”

“I have to say you are much the same,” I reply with a smile. “Perhaps we can try to encourage more of that for each other.”

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“...Perhaps as partners?”

I hold out my hand and nod. He nods back as he takes mine in his and shakes it once.

“Deal.”

We step out of the elevator in silence and walk to the room the kiosk told us was Anastasia's. The room is much like any other bland hospital room with white walls and generic prints of painted flowers from well over two decades back. A monitor beeps steadily next to a girl who is about fourteen, she’s watching a T.V. with some silly cartoon playing on the screen. Her face is enthralled with pleasure and entertainment. Victoria stands a distance off, watching with a soft smile. Weaver and I step in quietly.

“Your daughter looks quite peaceful,” Weaver says.

Victoria jumps at the sound of his voice and turns to look at him quickly.

“...She’s adjusting to this strange, new world, thanks to you,” she says as she looks at Weaver, then me. 

I glare at her as Weaver steps closer.

“I never would have helped you had I known Lucy was gonna have to pay the price,” he tells her.

“But you did help me,” she replies pointedly with sass. “Because you were desperate to find the Guardian.”

“And I did find her,” he replies, looking past Victoria. “She’s right there in this room.”

“No, my daughter is not your Guardian.” 

“Gothel believed she was, that’s why she saved her for you,” Weaver replies, she scoffs. “And I’d like to find out for myself. And if I’m right, her magic may be able to save Lucy. But not if she dies today. Drizella and Gothel are still out there and I very much doubt they’ve given up. You have no choice but to let me and Lavinna protect her.”

“Me?” I ask with mild surprise.

“A woman who fights angels and demons is a pretty good partner for the Dark One,” he tells me.

“I honestly have no idea what kind of significance that title holds,” I reply in reference to ‘Dark One’. “However, I do have a sword that might help us out.”

“You can’t go wandering around Seattle with a sword,” snaps Victoria.

“First of all, it’s a katana,” I tell her waspishly. “I’ll look like I’m going to a dojo. Second, it has a lot of power and,” I lean a little closer to Weaver, “it was how I killed that seventeen story monster.”

“I see,” he says thoughtfully, a hint of glee in his eyes. “We might have use for that.”

“We’ll have to stop by Roni’s and get it,” I tell him.

“Certainly,” he says with a nod to me. “You run there and get it. I’ll take these two to my locker at the police station.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I tell him with a nod. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Take my car,” he says as he starts to hand me his keys.

“Uh… no, that’s okay,” I tell him apologetically. “That would be very illegal as I don’t have a license anymore.”

“How do you not have a license?” Victoria scoffs.

“Because I’m not from your world. And I end up spending more time in earlier time periods than this. So one would be pointless.” Then to Weaver, “I’ll get a taxi if you can spare the fee.”

He exhales and nods as he digs into his back pocket for his wallet.

“I suppose you don’t have money either,” he asks as he hands me a couple of twenties.

“I have gold in my closet,” I tell him helpfully. “If that’s what you’d like me to pay you back in.”

“In your closet?” Victoria snaps with exasperation.

“You know,” I say looking at her with annoyance. “It would be so grand if you’d shut that hole in your face.”

She glares at me.

“I don’t need you to pay me back,” Weaver says quickly as he pushes my shoulder toward the door. “Just hurry and get going.”

“Will we need back up?” I ask. 

“Possibly. Do your companions have any kind of magical abilities?”

“One is an immortal being and the other is a werewolf,” I remind him.

“That won’t do much good against Gothel.”

“John could snap her neck,” I reply flippantly.

“Is homicide really your first go-to idea?” Victoria asks incredulously. 

“How many wars have you had to fight?” I ask her sharply. “I’ve lost count for myself. Do you know how to make sure you stop an enemy from winning?” I step closer to her, an air of intimidation about me. “You either leverage something against them or you kill them. As we have nothing to leverage with, that leaves door number two.” I turn away from her and look at Weaver. “I’ll bring back up.”

I collect my friends, explaining the new information that has come to light. With orders to help protect the girl and Weaver, we set out on foot to the police station. When we get to the front door, Ethan and John at my side, Tasuke Mamoru on my back; Weaver meets us in the lobby. I make quick introductions before Weaver leads the way. After several long hallways, we reach a door at the end of one that requires a code to get in. Once he opens the doors, I see that Victoria and Anastasia are inside at a table. The room looks like an evidence locker with objects in bags, categorized and stacked on metal shelves along the walls. A metal grated cage takes up a good portion of the room. Its door is locked and I assume that really important things are being held inside. 

The table Anastasia sits at has a brown cloth over a small section of it. Several objects lay underneath by the looks of the bulges. Ethan, John, and I step forward into the room. Victoria scrutinizes my friends with disapproval while her daughter looks wide-eyed at John’s face.

“They look like hired thugs,” Victoria mutters at me.

“I didn’t hire them,” I tell her calmly. “They asked to accompany me. Now, why don’t you think about what kind of people they might be, compared to what you think I am. But, do it silently.”

“That’s enough,” Weaver tells us as he goes over to the table.

Positioning himself before Anastasia on the other side of the table. Gently he takes the cloth and pulls it back, revealing daggers of varying shapes and sizes. Weaver clears his throat.

“Now, I’ve performed this test many times,” he tells the girl. “Carried these blades a long way. It’s quite simple. All you have to do is tell me which one of these has magic.”

She hesitates for a moment before she picks up a dark one with a curvy blade and scrollwork along the metal's edge. 

“Is it that one?” Weaver asks her.

“No,” she replies, with her young, soft voice. “It isn’t.”

Anastasia sets it back down, Weaver’s face goes dark. Then, out of nowhere, the table starts to shake and the ground rumbles under our feet. Ethan and John whirl around to the doors, ready for someone to attack. I grab the hilt of my sword and prepare for a fight. The daggers levitate for a moment before they fly through the air and lodge themselves into a cabinet door several yards away. Everyone gasps. 

“I think…” Anastasia says slowly as Weaver goes over to the cabinet, “maybe it’s in there.”

Weaver opens the door and pulls out an ornately carved box, just below where the dagger blades have lodged themselves. When he opens it, he pulls out a dagger similar to the one she had picked up. This one has the name Rumpelstiltskin carved beautifully on the blade. I watch in interest as he holds it up to her. The girl looks at her mother quickly.

“I don’t want power if it’s gonna do things like that,” Anastasia says.

Weaver steps closer to her.

“Don’t be afraid,” he encourages her. “This power can be used to help people, to heal people. In fact, there’s a little girl who desperately needs your help. So, if you’re ready, it’s time to show what you can do.”

Anastasia looks at her mother unsure.

“It is definitely up to you,” I tell the girl gently. “We are all allowed to make choices. But you need to think beyond this moment and consider what could happen if you do and if you don’t help.”

She looks at me then and seems to see something. The worry lines on her forehead smooth out and she nods, to me then to Weaver. 

“Alright, I’ll help,” she tells him.

He smiles kindly at her. 

“Right, you’re a very brave girl,” he tells her as he goes over to the cage.

He unlocks it, rummages around inside, then comes back with a rolled-up scroll. Setting it down on the table where the daggers originally were, he goes to a set of file cabinets and pulls out a piece of paper from the second drawer. Returning to the table he sets it down next to the scroll and pulls out a mechanical pencil from his jacket pocket. He hands it to Anastasia before he unrolls the scroll. There are a bunch of little squiggly line gliffs on the parchment, they look like they might be words. 

“Now, what you need to do is copy what’s written there on this blank sheet,” Weaver tells her.

Anastasia nods as she sits down and starts to work.

“I don’t understand,” she tells him after two lines. “How does this help that girl?”

“It’s a spell,” he informs her. “But it can only activate if it’s imbued with magic. And in this land, you’re the only one who has it.”

“Magic is weird here,” Ethan tells me out the corner of his mouth.

I nod.

“It’s not the kind you’re used to,” I agree.

“But what about…” Anastasia starts to ask.

She freezes as if she’s sensing something then. Victoria looks at her then gets a little closer in worry.

“Ana?” she asks softly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Anastasia looks at me and the guys.

“Someone’s here,” she says.

I nod to her then turn to Ethan and John.

“Get ready boys,” I tell them.

“Right,” Ethan says as he pulls his revolvers out.

“Yes, mum,” John adds as he holds up the sword Kanehisa had given him for lessons. 

We turn to the door as one. Calling on the power of Tasuke Mamoru, I pull it out of the sheath and ready myself.

“It’s her,” Anastasia says from behind me. There’s a slight gasp from the girl before I hear her crying, “Oh, no. No, no, no, no!”

I turn slightly to look back. She’s holding her head in her hands while everything in the room starts to shake violently.

“What’s… going on?” Victoria asks as she looks around.

“She’s losing control,” Weaver replies calmly. “Anastasia, look at me. You have to calm down.”

Just then the doors go flying open, revealing Gothel on the other side. Ethan starts to aim as John means to swing his sword down at the woman. She looks unconcerned at this until there is a burst of energy from Anastasia that sends every single one of us flying. All of us in the room go slamming up into the ceiling while Gothel is thrown backward down the hall. Then we land with dull, hard thuds on the ground. The wind is knocked out of me for a moment as I realize that Anastasia is up and running away in a panic. I cough and get up on my hands and knees quickly.

“Anastasia,” I shout at her back. “Don’t go!”

She ignores me and turns the corner at the end of the hall. John coughs loudly as I hear Ethan groan. I look over and see that he’s bleeding at the back of his head. John sits up and looks around. 

“John,” I order, he looks at me with wide eyes. “Go after Anastasia. Bring her back.”

“Yes,” he tells me as he jumps up and runs down the hall.

Scrambling over to Ethan I check to see if anything is broken. Thankfully the only problem he has is a cracked head, possibly a concussion. I rush over to the cabinets and start rifling through the drawers and behind the cabinet doors, looking for a first aid kit.

“Uh…” groans Weaver as he starts to come to. “Wh-What are you doing?”

“I need a first aid kit.”

“Is Anastasia alright?” he asks in a panic as he looks around.

“John’s gone after her,” I tell him. “Ethan’s bleeding. Where is your first aid kit.”

“Second door,” he tells me as he points. 

I yank the cabinet door open and pull out the white metal box. Turning, I head back over to my friend, jumping over a stirring Victoria. About that time John comes back down the hall.

“Miss Lavinia,” he calls to me. “The little girl has disappeared. As has the red haired woman.”

“Okay,” I say as I start yanking out gauze and placing it on the wound at the back of Ethan’s head. “Thank you, John.”

“Disappeared?” Victoria says sharply as she jumps up. “No!”

In her high heels, she takes off down the hall. We don’t see her again. I don’t honestly care about that woman. It’s Ethan who has me worried. His bleeding stops easy enough though and I say a silent prayer of thanks. The wound isn’t deep, thankfully. However, Weaver gets concerned when Victoria doesn’t come back a couple of minutes later and tries to call her. There is no answer.

“That can’t be good,” he tells me.

I pull off my jacket and prop Ethan’s head up with it.

“Perhaps she’s out looking for her daughter,” I reply.

“Or maybe Gothel was waiting for her to run after Anastasia and snatched her up,” Weaver tells me.

“Well,” I growl, “as far as I’m concerned, they deserve each other. That poor girl, though, she’s the one who has my sympathy. What are we going to do about the spell for Lucy?”

I look back at Weaver as he shakes his head. 

“I’m gonna go check the security footage, see if I can’t figure out what happened,” he tells me.

“Right,” I nod. “John, go with him. We could use another set of eyes on this.”

“Of course,” John nods to Weaver. Then he looks at Ethan and asks me, “Will he be alright? He isn’t as strong as you and I.”

“It’s mild,” I assure him. “He might have a concussion. But that will probably be it. He just needs to rest.”

“...Uhng,” Ethan grunts. “Isn’t my first… won’t be my last.”

“Ethan!” John and I say joyfully. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” John says happily.

“Uh… not… so loud,” he says with his eyes firmly shut.

Weaver’s footsteps come closer then and he hands me a bottle.

“Three of these,” he tells me. “It’ll help the pain.”

I look at the bottle and note that they are pain killers.

“Thank you, Weaver,” I tell him with a smile.

“No extra charge,” he says with a wink. “Come on, John.”

They move quickly down the hall. While they are away I give Ethan three pills after I collect a cup of water from the police break room. After he swallows them, I make him lay on the floor and rest for a bit.

“What happened?” Ethan asks me.

“Anastasia panicked. When Gothel showed up it scared her and her power erupted, sending us all flying. I think everyone got bruises, but you’re the only one who got a wound.”

“Just lucky I guess,” he says softly. 

I chuckle.

“I suppose,” I reply as I start to pick things up and put them on the table.

About that time is when John and Weaver come back. John stops by Ethan to check on him while Weaver passes us. 

“What did you find?” I ask.

“Anastasia was taken by her sister,” Weaver tells me while he starts rummaging around in his things. “John caught Gothel kidnapping Belfrey just outside the station. Once they got down the street we lost track of them.”

“That’s not helpful,” I hiss in disappointment.

The sound of running feet behind us makes me turn around. Rogers and a sweet looking blonde, late teenaged girl are running toward us. That’s when the quickening hits me fully. The group is complete, she’s the other charge. 

“Oh, it’s all upside-down,” she says with an accent similar to Rogers’.

“Lavinia?” Rogers calls when he sees me next to Ethan and a squatting John. “Where’s Weaver?”

“Rogers,” I say with a nod. “Weaver is back there. Who is this?”

“This is Tilly,” he tells me.

“Of course you are,” I reply as I look at her with a smile.

She looks at me curiously.

“What the hell happened?” Rogers asks as he comes into the room. Weaver stands up then. “And don’t tell me that you would explain but I wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

“Honestly, Detective,” Weaver says as he looks at me. “I don’t quite believe it myself.”

“Well, there’s something else you won’t believe,” Rogers says. He looks at Tilly, then back to Weaver. “Tilly and I found something over by the troll sculpture. There’s a symbol painted there.”

Weaver exhales harshly and holds up what he’d been looking for. A gold coin with strange markings on it, like spokes on a wheel.

“Let me guess,” says the older man. “Did it look like this?”

“Yeah…” Rogers says in amazement. “It’s the symbol from Eloise’s notebook. What the devil does it mean?”

We all look at Weaver with concern as the feeling in the room becomes very tense.

“It means…” he says with a sigh. “They’re here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.


	3. Chapter 3

John takes Ethan back to Roni’s bar with strict instructions from me that he is to rest. Rogers takes Tilly to the break room to get her some food. I continue to pick up the room when Weaver touches my shoulder. Stopping, mid bend, I turn and look at him.

“Leave it for now,” he encourages me. “You should get some rest. We’ve been going for over twenty-four hours. You must be exhausted.”

“Not as much as you’d think. My body has a healing factor that keeps me in tip-top shape all the time.”

“Still, you should rest.”

He’s looking at me worriedly as if I’m a kid. This makes me smile.

“Alright,” I concede. “I’ll go over in the corner and snooze for a bit. Okay?” He gives me a half smile and nods. “What about you, by the way?”

“I never sleep,” he tells me. “Even here, without magic, I’m still the Dark One. And Dark Ones never sleep.”

“You must get a lot done,” I muse as I settle into a relatively clean corner.

“That I do,” he says softly. 

He says no more as he starts piling things onto his table while I doze. At some point, he stops and just sits, probably thinking. Sometime after that the sound of shoes comes from the hall and Rogers comes into the room.

“I did as you asked,” he tells Weaver. “Tilly’s been fed, with tea, jam, and bread. Now are you gonna tell me what the hell you meant when you said, ‘They are here,’? Who is ‘they’?”

There’s a slight silence from Weaver before I hear him turn.

“Lavinia,” he calls to me softly. “You might want to come over.”

I open my eyes and stand. Rogers seems shocked to see me as I come and sit across the table from Weaver.

“I thought you’d have gone back to Roni’s with your friends,” Rogers tells me with a strange tinge of embarrassment to his tone.

“Nope,” I smile at him. “I’m in this for the long haul. They are just backup.”

“I see. So you’re their commander.”

“Sort of,” I reply with a nod. Then to Weaver, “Alright, shoot.”

Weaver nods to me then looks at the golden coin in his hand.

“Well, I think it’s time you finally learned the truth about Eloise Gardener,” he says to Rogers. 

“Enlighten me,” Rogers challenges as he puts his hands on the table and waits.

“Eloise Gardener is a member of a dangerous cult,” Weaver says. “That symbol you’ve been chasing…” he holds up the coin. Rogers takes it as he goes on, “That’s their symbol. That’s why Eloise ran away all those years ago. She was seduced into this cult, indoctrinated, rising through the ranks until she eventually became their leader.”

“How did she end up in the clutches of Victoria Belfrey?” Rogers asks as he hands back the coin.

“Well, that’s the thing. Eloise was doing what was done to her. Seducing others into the cult. She took Belfrey’s daughter. Belfrey was just trying to get her back.”

Rogers exhales, “Ivy…”

“No, she has another… a fourteen-year-old named Anastasia. Eloise and her cult still have her.”

I wonder at this twisting of the truth. 

_ Is Weaver saying this because he’s trying to put it in a way that this cursed man, who doesn’t believe in magic, will understand? Or is there another reason? _

“This is, uh… this is a lot to believe,” Rogers says with a tired chuckle.

“Yeah, the truth is a complicated companion, never quite behaving as you expect,” Weaver replies.

“Mercy! Ain’t that the truth,” I mutter as I lean back in my chair.

“No, I’m sorry. No, I don’t buy it,” Rogers tells us, shaking his head. “I know a victim when I see one, and Eloise is textbook. She’s hurt and needs help. She’s not a cult leader.”

“You don’t know her as well as you think,” Weaver says carefully. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

“I think I’m gonna have to trust my gut.”

“She’s a great little actress,” I muse with a nod. “I have no doubt she was hurt at one time. That’s good stuff to pull from when you’re trying to pull the wool over someone’s eyes.”

“No… No,” Rogers starts.

“Yes,” I cut him off. “I’ve gotten to see this woman behind closed doors when she’s not trying to put on a show. She is crafty and calculated. She is dangerous.”

“She is innocent,” he tells me in a growl. “And I’m gonna prove it.”

“Cool,” I say with a nod. “Go check on her now, then. I’m sure she needs some attention…”

“Why do you say that?” he asks me with panicked suspicion. 

“Because the one thing that victims and villains share is that they need much more care than people realize.”

He eyes me closely before he turns and leaves.

“Exactly how many stories have you been to?” asks Weaver when he’s sure that Rogers is far enough away that he can’t hear.

“I’ve lost count,” I reply apathetically as I go back over to the corner. 

“But if you had to make a guess…” he pushes.

I settle down and close my eyes.

“Uh… over five hundred?” I say thoughtfully. 

Weaver makes a, ‘huh,’ sound at the back of his throat before he gets to work cleaning again. After another hour goes by I get up and help him pick up. He tells me stories about some of the things I collect. Tales of his life as the Dark One, the horrible deals he made that more often than not, ended up doing more damage than good. Another hour goes by and we’ve made quite a lot of headway. Detective Rogers comes through the door then, looking uneasy.

“So, is Eloise Gardener as innocent as you thought?” asks Weaver. “Did you find that unassailable proof you were searching for?”

Rogers shakes his head in confusion.

“I-I don’t know what’s going on here…” he says with devastated confusion, “but you were right about one thing. That woman’s hiding something, and I want to know what.”

Weaver looks at a big envelope next to my elbow, then he looks at me. When I’d picked it up and asked him where to place it, he told me the table. I nod now and hand the envelope to Rogers.

“Well, perhaps… it has something to do with this,” Weaver tells him.

Rogers takes the envelope from me and pulls out a piece of paper. He reads over it and then looks at us. 

“It’s a list of gardens and greenhouses,” Rogers says, still confused. “What is this? This has something to do with your crazy cult theory, doesn’t it?”

“If this is the cult I think it is,” Weaver says as he leans against the table. “One of their most hallowed rituals involves a Sacred Orchid. This may be our only chance to find them and stop them before someone gets hurt.”

“Gets hurt? What kind of ritual are you talking about here?”

“Rituals that require sacrifices,” Weaver informs the younger detective.

Rogers blinks a couple of times before he looks at Weaver hard.

“And you really think Eloise is capable of something that dark?”

Weaver looks at me, then down at the table in front of him. 

“I think you’ll find that people are rarely what they seem, Detective,” Weaver counters. Then looking back at Rogers, he adds, “And your Eloise, most assuredly, is much more than you know.”

Rogers looks at me then.

“And what about you?” he asks pointedly.

“What about me?” I reply with surprise.

“I get the feeling that there is much more to you than you let on.”

I laugh before I smile at him.

“I’m an open book,” I inform him. “And I don’t lie. What would you like to know?”

“Ah, might I suggest that we look into these greenhouses while you chat?” says Weaver as he stands and takes the paper from Rogers.

“Yes, let’s do that,” he nods. We make our way to the parking lot while Rogers starts asking questions, “Where do you come from?”

“Originally, Kansas.”

“What do you mean by originally?” 

“Well, I recently left Kansas to come here after I finished a mission.”

“What was this mission?”

“To reunite a family.”

Rogers looks at me suspiciously.

“Is that a typical ‘mission’ for you?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I do a lot of things, actually. I’m sort of a Jack of all trades.”

He looks me over again, seeming to have a hard time believing this.

“I feel like you’re avoiding a direct answer.”

“Forgive me,” I give him a slight bow of the head as we get into Weaver’s car. “Let’s see, I’ve helped find missing people, played bodyguard, helped solve mysteries.”

“You’ve been a bodyguard?” he asks me skeptically.

I nod.

“I am proficient in many types of weapons and hand to hand combat. I also speak several languages. A couple of months ago I was in Japan working as a bodyguard.”

“So, what you’re doing with Weaver is…” Rogers leaves his words open with a question mark obviously at the end.

“I am,” I say hesitantly, considering how much I can reveal of someone else’s story. “...I believe, here to help him get to his wife.”

“And me?” he asks, looking at me hard.

“Ah… that is a bit more tricky,” I tell him with a smile. “See, sometimes what my charges, or clients, want are not fully complete thoughts. This means that I have to figure out how to make it a complete thought, much like figuring out a puzzle.”

“That sounds like something that Tilly would say,” he tells me.

This makes me smile.

“Good. She’s a part of this too and won’t mind allowing me to help her then. So, where you and she come in to play for Detective Weaver’s case… I’m not sure. But, one thing I know from experience, it will reveal itself.”

“That sounds far too mystic to be believed.”

“It might sound that way. But it’s a foolproof system that has not once failed me.”

Rogers gets quiet as we drive to the first greenhouse on the list. Weaver seems to have nothing to say about any of this. 

“I presume there is some kind of confidentiality,” Rogers says over his shoulder to me in the back seat. “But can you tell us what your worst and best missions were?”

I look out the window for a moment quietly as I think about the question.

“...I suppose the best and worst might have been the same mission,” I tell him softly. “I accidentally ended up falling in love with one of my clients and got attached to the rest. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to stay with them.”

His eyebrows go together in empathetic concern.

“Why couldn’t you stay? Surely if they wanted you there, you could have…”

“It’s against the rules,” I cut him off. “To the organization that I work for it’s considered an illegal infraction to stay.”

“Why not quit?” 

“...Because this is... a ride or die kind of organization,” I explain slowly.

“Like the mafia or something?” 

A bitter laugh escapes me at his question.

“Sort of,” I reply, then mutter under my breath, “More like Yakuza on steroids.”

Rogers cuts his questioning short as we arrive at the first greenhouse. While it is pretty, Gothel is nowhere to be found. Checking the list we make our way quickly to the next one as the sun is going down. The third one is where we find a rather odd sight. This greenhouse is high ceilinged, spacious, and looks more like a place where students would learn than a public space. There are long tables with stools pushed under them a short distance from the doors we enter. The middle of the greenhouse has been cleared, five tall candelabra sit at the points of a large, white pentagram. Inside of it is Victoria Belfrey, very much dead. Ivy has her mother’s head in her lap. She runs her fingers through her mother’s hair, tears trail down her face. 

“What’s happened?” Rogers says as he rushes forward. “What the hell is this?”

“My mother…” Ivy says softly. “She saved me. It was meant to be me.”

We crouch down next to her.

“Are you… are you okay?” Rogers asks.

Ivy doesn’t answer at first, she seems to be thinking. When she slowly looks up she looks frightened and confused.

“...I don’t know,” she says.

The detectives look at each other for a moment while I continue to study Victoria. She looks peaceful. No more hints of pain or sorrow. I ponder on this for a moment and find myself envying her just a bit. 

“All right, we’re here,” Rogers tells Ivy gently. “I’ll-I’ll be right over there for a moment.”

He and Weaver stand and walk a short distance. Ivy looks at me then.

“She said…” she starts before a soft sob hits her. Looking back down at her mother, Ivy whispers, “She said that you were right. That she did deserve this for what she did… to me…”

I watch this poor young woman and see the little girl who so badly wanted her mama’s love. She’s so tiny right now.

“Do you forgive her?” I ask gingerly. Ivy sniffles softly and nods. “Good,” I nod several times. Touching her hand gently I add, “I’m sorry for your loss. May your heart heal quickly.”

There isn’t any kind of reply from Ivy before I stand up and go over to Rogers and Weaver.

“I guess you were right about that cult,” Rogers tells us. “I just would never have believed that people that evil would be operating right here.”

He looks back at the two women.

“This is the best place to hide,” I reply with a shrug. “It’s right in plain sight.”

Weaver nods.

“And that being said, you are right about one thing,” he tells Rogers. “It is evil. And things around here are about to get… very dark.”

Rogers looks at Weaver and me before he nods solemnly. 

Victoria’s death is called in and a coroner comes to collect her body. Ivy is encouraged to use the mental health counselors. Weaver encourages me to stay at Roni’s for a day and rest; as there are no obvious leads to help us figure out where to find Gothel and Anastasia. It’s about six in the morning when Weaver drops me off at Roni’s. Roni is the one who lets me in when she sees me at the door. 

“Where have you been?” she asks with wide eyes. “Ethan and John told me about what happened at Weaver’s locker. Are you okay?”

I nod slightly as I walk over to the bar and take a seat.

“It has been a crazy two days,” I tell her. “We tried to get Anastasia to write up a spell to help wake up Lucy, but now we can’t find her to get it done…”

“Oh!” Roni cries as she sits next to me. “It’s okay, she’s awake now.”

“What? How?” I ask surprised.

“Gothel used something called the Resurrection Amulet,” she tells me with a mixture of relief and disgust.

A heavy exhale comes out of my mouth as I close my eyes in realization.

“That’s why Victoria Belfrey was killed…” I say softly, closing my eyes and rubbing them harshly. “Gothel was going to use Ivy as the sacrifice to wake Lucy up, but Victoria stepped in. Huh… she finally really did make up for her shitty deeds.”

“Wait!” Roni says with wild eyes as she clutches my arm. “Victoria is  _ dead _ ?!”

I nod heavily.

“There was a pentagram, some candles, and a very dead Victoria.”

“I just… can’t believe it,” Roni says as she exhales and stares around without seeing. “At least she did something for her daughter though.”

“Yes,” I say with a sigh. “At least she did that.” I stare off into space for a moment before I look back at Roni. “Now, how did your whole thing go?”

“Oh! Yes, I got Zelena or Kelly that is, to come back to help us. When she gets up, I’ll introduce you.”

“Sounds good. Are Ethan and John upstairs asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” I tell her as I stand up, patting her on the back lightly. “I’m gonna go up there and get some sleep too.”

“That’s a good idea,” Roni says as she looks me over. “When was the last time you slept anyways?”

“Uh… a long time ago. I took some power naps though.”

She laughs and nods as she shoos me with her hand. 

“Yeah, go to bed.”

When I’m upstairs, I don’t even bother to get out of my two-day-old clothes. I just kick my shoes off next to the couch by my sleeping friends. Grabbing a blanket from a chair, I throw it over me when I lay down and quickly go to sleep. I wake slightly when I feel a gentle hand on my cheek, as it isn’t cold I know it’s Ethan’s. He makes no attempt to wake me fully and so I go back to sleep. It’s early afternoon when I do get up, take a shower, and put on fresh clothes. A pair of burgundy skinny jeans, a long grey cotton shirt, a black jacket from my time in London, and my wedge-heeled boots. I grab a pencil from the kitchen counter, spin it into my mostly dried curls, collecting all of them into a messy bun at the back of my head. Once I’ve descended the spiral staircase I see a busy restaurant bar that cares nothing about what happened yesterday. Making my way over to the bartop I’m greeted by Roni with a smile. A lovely red-haired woman stands next to her. Her pale blue eyes are full of mirth.

“Good afternoon,” I tell Roni as I start to grab a barstool.

Suddenly my ass has been struck by a wide, warm hand. I stop moving and staring at a shocked Roni. Her expression changes to anger as she looks behind me. I turn slowly to look at a man who has obviously been doing some heavy day drinking. He looks like any average, dark-haired schmuck who thinks it acceptable to touch a woman without permission.

“Heeeyy, baby,” he tells me with a sloppy grin. “You look like you like a good time.”

“Hey, jackass...” snaps Roni to this man from behind me.

“I do,” I reply flatly, then I uppercut him squarely in the chin.

He goes flying up about a foot and then backward a good distance, completely out like a candle in front of a fan. I tilt my head and look at him thoughtfully for a moment before I turn around. Taking the seat I’d meant to occupy earlier, I look at the man next to me. It’s Henry who is thoroughly shocked and impressed.

“I… I can’t believe…” he stutters. “That was amazing.”

I smile at him, then at Roni who looks at me with a pleased expression. The woman next to her looks no less joyful.

“Well,” I say with a shrug, “how is everyone’s day so far?”

“Pretty good,” Roni says as she pours me a shot of whiskey. “By the way this is Kelly.”

She indicates the red-haired woman. I extend my hand to her which she takes and shakes.

“Nice to meet you,” I tell Kelly. “I’m Lavinia.”

“Roni’s told me about you,” she tells me with a gorgeous English accent. “I saw you laying on the couch this morning.”

I nod as I throw the shot into my mouth and swallow quickly. 

“I’ve already introduced her to Ethan and John,” Roni informs me.

“Good,” I reply with another nod and point at Kelly with my index finger. “Well, I look forward to working with you, Kelly.” She replies with a simple grin before she goes down the bar to take an order. I turn to Henry then and ask, “Now, how is Lucy?”

“You heard?” he asks me, surprised.

“I did.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Henry says with a relieved sigh. “She’s doing great like she was never in a coma. Jacinda said she’ll be getting discharged today.”

“Good,” I say with a nod and smile. “Babies need to be out running around in fresh air as much as they can. I’m glad she’s doing better.” I stand then and pat him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go check on my guys,” I tell Roni and Kelly.

They don’t reply, just nod. I make my way quickly past the still knocked-out man and around other patrons to the kitchen. When I’m inside the bustling space I look around and spot Ethan at the counter, chopping onions. He doesn’t pay any attention to me until I come around and wrap my arms around his waist. Ethan jumps slightly then looks over his shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I tell him as I look up at his hazel eyes.

He grins at me as I let him go. Turning around he gathers me up into his arm and squeezes gently.

“Hey!” he says in his rumbly drawl. “How did you sleep?”

We look at each other as we pull apart.

“Well. How is your head feeling?”

“Still hurts a bit when I get tired, but I’ll be fine. What all happened?”

We step out of the way of the busy chefs so that I can answer his question, but not before Ethan grabs a basket of fresh fries and hands them to me.

“So, with Victoria dead, the girl, and Gothel still in the wind, what do we do now?” he asks.

“I’m going to see if I can help Weaver and Rogers find some leads,” I tell him simply as I chew on several fries. 

“So, in the meantime…” Ethan says slowly with expectation.

I look at him sadly.

“I’m afraid you and John are going to have to hang back for a while,” I tell him apologetically. “Keep talking to Roni and Kelly, keep up with what’s going on with them. They keep getting roped into all this and while it feels like I’m doing all the heavy lifting, I’m pretty sure they are going to end up doing a lot of work behind the scenes. Help them where you can. In the meantime, I will put in a request for communication devices for you and John.”

“That would come in handy,” he tells me with a couple of nods. “That way we don’t have to rely on you to check-in.”

“Exactly.”

Ethan looks around the kitchen for a moment and nods.

“Alright, we can do that.”

“Thank you,” I tell him gratefully. “I’ll go put in the request and then I’m heading out to see Weaver.”

“You should stop by the dish room and say hello to John.”

“I will,” I reply with a nod as I start to walk to it. 

“And Lavinia,” he calls with a smile in his voice. I look back at him and he says, “You’re right, it does feel like you’re doing all the heavy lifting.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re used to doing this all alone. If we can help behind the scenes with Roni, as you suggest, I think the workload will be a bit more even.”

I smile at this.

“I like the sounds of that.”

He grins and waves me off. I stop by and give John a strong hug. After I tell him what I told Ethan I head for the police station. On my walk there I use my communication device to put in that request for Ethan and John. I know Gersham will get on it quickly and there won’t be any complaints. The Council is too smart not to realize the necessity for such things. When I arrive I find Weaver and Rogers down in Weaver’s locker. A file with Victoria Belfrey’s picture on the outside sits on the table before them. 

“Hey, guys,” I say as I pull up a chair. “What are we doing today?”

Weaver looks at me slightly annoyed.

“You are supposed to be resting,” he tells me.

“And leave all the fun to you?” I reply with mock sadness. “How rude! I slept for seven hours. I’m fine. Did you sleep at all?” I ask with a catty tone.

He gives me a side glance before he looks back at the folder in front of him. Rogers doesn’t seem to have heard anything I’ve just said. The dark circles under his eyes and several day old scruff on his face tell me that he’s very tired.

“This is all my fault,” he says with a couple of nods to himself. “If I hadn’t rescued Eloise, Victoria Belfrey might still be alive.”

We look at his mournful face.

“No, these events were set in motion by forces beyond your control,” Weaver tells him. “And that being said, I don’t believe they are beyond repair.”

“Well spoken,” I reply with a nod.

“You know,” Rogers says as he looks at me incredulously, “you’re awfully chipper this afternoon considering what happened yesterday.”

“Well, it’s not my first dead body,” I reply, inclining my head to him. “And I did start my day off punching a guy out for smacking my ass and then had a shot of whiskey with some fries.”

“That’s all you’ve had?” Rogers says with shock and aggravation. “And...and someone grabbed your…”

“First off, I’m staying at the bar with Roni. Second, why are you saying it like that?” I ask confused. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You sound like an adult, drunk version of Tilly,” he snaps.

I roll my eyes.

“One shot is not going to get me anywhere,” I tell him with a sigh. “Chill out.” I turn to Weaver and ask, “How do we fix things?”

“Well, if you two are done with your little spat, I think I might have a way,” Weaver says with slight amusement as he places a folder full of papers between Rogers and I. “Have a look.”

There’s a picture of a woman, face to the side as she lays on her stomach on an office floor, obviously dead. She’s got long, straight, brown hair and a doctor’s coat on.

“This was Lucy’s doctor,” Weaver tells us.

Rogers opens up the folder as I come around to read over his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” I say softly as I lean a little closer to read.

He looks at me out the corner of his eye for a moment before he nods, then looks back.

“She was found in the hospital the same night we found Victoria dead,” Weaver goes on. “Medical examiner said death was due to natural causes.”

“Hardly,” I say as I pull the picture off the front of the folder and look at it closer. 

“You think otherwise?” Rogers asks.

“Unless it was a heart attack,” I tell him as I look at her face. “There’s no natural cause that would make her face contort in so much pain like that. Look.”

He leans closer as I show him the picture.

“That’s just speculation,” he tells me.

“Listen, I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies. Some from peaceful deaths, others from… well, not so much. This woman was in pain.”

“There was also a lock of her hair missing,” Weaver adds.

Rogers and I look at Weaver with interest. Setting the picture down I reach across Rogers and move some of the papers around to look at the ME’s report.

“She died at the same time as Victoria?” I ask.

Weaver nods.

“If that’s true, another cult member must be responsible,” Rogers says.

I look back at the picture as Weaver adds, “But the evil extends far beyond Eloise. And if we can find the source, it might just take us right back to her.”

“That’s a lovely theory,” I say as I slide the picture over so they can both see it. “And while I do agree, I don’t think it was a cult killing. Look at the floor around her. There’s no pentagrams, no candles, nothing like the setting we found Victoria in.”

“You make a good point…” Rogers says in thought.

“I mean it’s possible that it still is, obviously,” I say quickly. “Maybe it wasn’t a ritualistic killing, but it’s too coincidentally close to Victoria’s death and her family to be just happenstance.”

“Now, that I would agree with,” Weaver says pointing a finger at me. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a Jack of all trades.”

“I’ve learned to be very observant,” I tell him with a smile and a small curtsy. 

He smiles at me too just as my communication device trills. I stand back up quickly.

“Excuse me,” I tell them. “I need to take this.”

They nod as I head out of the room into the hall. When I’m a good distance away I pull my sleeve up and hit the answer button on the screen.

“Hey, shady lady,” Gersham says with a friendly tone. “I’ve got the go-ahead from the Council to install communication devices on your companions.”

“Wonderful,” I reply with a smile. “When will you be able to do that?”

“I’ll get everything together and be at your door in an hour, your time,” he tells me.

“Sounds good, I’m away from it right now, but that gives me plenty of time to get back.”

“I’ll see ya then.”

We hang up and I go back to the locker, rolling down my sleeve as I walk. Poking my head in I catch the detectives’ attention.

“I need to get back to Roni’s bar. How about you guys go home, get some sleep and we’ll meet back up here tomorrow to get to work on finding leads?”

“We can’t do that,” Rogers tells me, shaking his head.

“Sure you can,” I reply with a confident nod. “But should you, is the real question. When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep?”

“...I’m fine,” he tells me with little conviction in his words.

“Sorry, I don’t hear stupid things,” I reply flatly. “Go home. We’ll meet here tomorrow at nine in the morning. Eat some real food too. No fast crap.”

“Look who's talking,” snaps Rogers.

“Wanna go a couple of rounds and see who is still standing?” I ask teasingly. “Five bucks says it’s me. See you guys tomorrow.”

Weaver exhales a chuckle before he waves to me. Rogers just shrugs. I shut the door and head back to Roni’s bar. When I get there I collect Ethan and John so we can wait by my door. An alert from my device tells me that Gersham has arrived. The flower knob turns and the door opens. My favorite I.T. man walks through with a big black suitcase in his right hand.

“Hey, Vinnie,” he says with a big grin. “How’s freedom treating you?”

“Too early to say,” I tell him with a smile. “How about we head upstairs and get to work?”

I make simple introductions before I point to the spiral staircase behind me. Gersham shuts the door, then he nods. When we are up in the apartment, Gersham goes over to the kitchen table and opens the suitcase. Pulling out a variety of silver machines, he sets them up in a precise and meticulous fashion on the table. A small case is the last thing that he pulls out. I know what it is before he even opens it. It contains numbing drugs and the lens devices that will go in my friend’s left eyes. 

“Who is first?” asks Gersham as he stands up and looks at us. 

“Will it be…” John asks with hesitation. “Be painful?”

“No,” I assure him. “You won’t feel a thing. It will just be strange and possibly disturbing emotionally.”

“Well, don’t sugar coat it…” Gersham mutters as he rolls his eyes at me.

“Why would I?” I ask grumpily. “It’s a transformative experience and those are seldom pleasant. It would have been nice if I’d been warned before they did it to me.”

Gersham concedes with a shrug.

“I’ll go first,” Ethan tells us, stepping forward bravely.

“You’ll be fine,” I tell him with a smile as he sits in the seat Gersham indicates for him to take. “It will take a while. So, I’ll show you, on mine, how to use the device.”

Ethan nods as I pull a chair up next to him. John pulls a chair up on the other side of me and sits. As Gersham gets to work, first disinfecting Ethan’s forearm, then injecting the numbing agent, I start showing them what they can do and how. Gersham’s work is long, tedious, and delicate. One machine copies the forearm skin and Ethan’s DNA so that it can create the device that will be used. Another surgically removes the skin that will be replaced with the screen when it’s finished. A third machine works on implanting the clear, tiny cables that will vibrate and allow sound to come when the device sends an alert or requires sound to be heard. They are organic and if scanned by an x-ray machine will look like veins. 

When the first machine is finished making the screen Gersham gently loads it into a fourth machine that will connect the device to the cables. It also sets the device into the prepared area on the forearm and then seals it. After that has been done, it’s time for the lens. Gersham repeats the processes using the same machines after he’s switched them over to eye mode. For this, Ethan, and eventually John, hold my hand. The lens process is much like LASIK surgery and is performed on a person when they are awake. It isn’t necessary but that’s never stopped the Citadel before. When it’s all over, Gersham gives them each a shot in the neck that will speed the healing process to a mere hour. The process from start to finish has taken four hours for both of them. I encourage them to go to bed early so that they can sleep through it. 

“In the morning,” I tell them, “it will feel like nothing is different at all.”

“This is truly amazing,” John says with awe as he looks at his arm.

“Thank you, Gersham,” Ethan says with a wave. “And thanks for taking care of our girl. She told us what you did for her at the Citadel.”

Gersham’s cheeks go red as he smiles bashfully.

“I was just doing my job,” he tells the cowboy.

“You did it well,” Ethan insists as he pulls me into a one-armed hug. He places a kiss on the top of my head then tells me, “Good night, Vinnie. Good luck tomorrow.”

I hug my tall friend back and smile.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “Same with you.”

John gives Gersham a slight bow before he hugs me too.

“Do be careful, Miss Vinnie,” he urges me. “While Ethan might pray for you, I still worry about your safety.”

I laugh and plant a kiss on my blue-skinned friend’s cheek. 

“No need to worry, you sweet man. I’m indestructible.” He gives me a raised eyebrow of disagreement. “Well, mostly.”

He smiles at me before he goes to make his sleeping pallet. I turn to Gersham who is packing his case now.

“How about I get us a drink?” I ask him. 

“At a real bar?” he looks at me with surprising giddiness.

“You betcha!” I reply with a grin.

He nods and quickly shuts his case up. We quietly head down the stairs to the now very busy room. 

“Is this happy hour?” he asks with shining eyes.

“Yes. Come on over to the bar and we’ll see if we can grab some seats. Is this your first time?”

“Yes,” he nods, looking around at all the people. “I was taken to the Citadel when I was little, as you remember, and was apprenticed to Hamish until it was time for him to leave. I’ve only ever done I.T. work. I very rarely get to go into the field.”

“Well, I am honored,” I say as I grab two stools that have just been vacated. “I’m glad that I could share this first with you.” Turning to Kelly I smile. “Kelly, this is my oldest friend, Gersham. This is his first time at a bar in his entire life. Can you make him something special?”

Kelly gives him an impressed smile.

“What a pleasure it is that we can be here to take care of you on such an auspicious occasion,” she tells him as she grabs up a rocks glass. She fills it with ice, pours in vodka, cherry liqueur, and grenadine. Then she adds a small garnish skewer with three cherries. With a grin, she places it before him.

“A Dirty Shirley, for your first time,” she tells him with mirth. 

I laugh as Gersham grins and thanks her. He takes a sip of it and smiles again. 

“That is delicious,” he tells the redhead. “Thank you very much, Kelly.”

“Of course,” she replies with a wink as she pours me a glass of whiskey and then moves on to another person.

“Thank you for everything, Gersham,” I say as I take up my glass to clink with his.

He bows his head and blushes as he obliges me.

“I’ve never been someone’s oldest friend,” he says thoughtfully as he takes a sip of his drink. “It’s a very foreign feeling. But I like it.”

I smile at him.

“I’m glad.”

“...You know, no one else treats me the way you do,” he says as he moves the skewer around in the liquid. “Not even Hamish. You really do treat me like a friend should, don’t you?”

I watch this man next to me for a moment then nod.

“What’s going on?” I ask him, concern creeping into my mind.

He shakes his head as his eyebrows press together in irritation.

“I just… don’t know how you can think of me as a friend when I’ve only ever done my job. Why would you treat me like I’m special?”

“Because you don’t ignore me when I want to talk. The other I.T. people just want to get me taken care of and out of the way. They don’t care at all about me as a person. They’ve drunk the Kool-Aid that the Council put out. You and I are rare creatures that didn’t completely conform.”

Gersham looks at me then.

“I guess we didn’t, huh? Is that why my chest hurt when you had to leave that last story?”

My head jerks to look at him straight on.

“...What?” I ask, startled. 

“I was keeping close tabs on you after your hearing. Just wanted to make sure that you were okay and got on to the next mission without problem. But when I saw that you called, ‘mission complete,’ I… My chest got tight and I kind of wanted to cry for you and… I don’t know. I just felt terrible for a while. I tested myself, but I wasn’t sick...”

“Gersham,” I say with a sigh and a kind smile. “Honey, you felt bad for me. You experienced empathy.”

He looks at me for a moment in horror.

“But… it was awful!”

I laugh and nod.

“It can be. Sometimes it’s so sweet though, it makes your heart beat hard and you feel all warm and content.”

“I felt like that when I got to each chili with you and those brothers!”

My hands go to my mouth as I laugh.

“Oh, Gersh! I wish I could hug you. You make me so happy.”

“What? No, don’t please!” he waves his hands in front of him urgently, I laugh. When his hands go back to the bartop, he looks at me with confusion, “But why are you happy about this?”

“Because with that news, which I think is just the best, I feel so much closer to you. Like you're a brother to me,” I tell him earnestly. “Someone who cares about me. Who will always be there. And has no attraction to me physically.”

I laugh at myself while Gersham seems to be going through an existential crisis.

“Re-really?” he asks with a whisper. I nod. “I… used to have, uh, a little sister when I was still… Before I was taken to the Citadel.”

“What was her name?” 

“Rhiall, she had, um… down syndrome, but she was so nice,” he says softly as he tugs at his ear nervously.

I smile at this and lean against the bartop.

“That’s lovely. I bet she thought the world of you.”

He stares off then answers, “I hope not. I didn’t get to be a brother to her for very long.”

This makes me bite my lip, a lump forming in my throat while my stomach tightens. I look around for Kelly and get her attention. Telling her silently that we need another drink for Gersham, I look back at my friend with understanding.

“I know how that goes.”

He looks at me finally.

“I know you do,” he says with a sigh. “Maybe that’s why I liked working with you in the first place. The rest just kind of followed.” He laughs then as Kelly puts another drink before him. “I mean, no one else brings me food or takes me to a bar.”

He downs the rest of his first drink and starts on the next one.

“Well, gotta take care of my favorite I.T. guy,” I tell him with a smile.

“You’re the best sister,” he tells me as he holds up his glass in a salute. “Thank you for all of this. I promise I’ll keep doing my job.”

I grin and clink my glass against his again.

“Yeah! To family!”

We laugh and drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.


	4. Chapter 4

After arriving at the police station, Weaver and Rogers inform me that they ran Dr. Sage’s credit card history. They found that she went to a place called, The Bakery @ Hyperion Heights, the morning she was killed. We take Rogers’ muscle car over to the bakery. The rumble is lovely while the smell of the leather seats brings bittersweet memories to my mind. I would love to ask Rogers to drive around the city while I doze in the backseat. But I don’t.

The bakery is quaint, well lit with big windows. The baked goods on display at the counter are beautifully decorated. There is a surprising amount of gingerbread items, I note. The kitchen is open so it can be seen by the public eye. There’s a woman with grey hair working on something, her back is to us.

“Are you, uh, Hilda, the proprietor of this bakery?” Rogers asks the grey-haired woman. 

“Mm-hmm,” says the woman as she continues to work. Her voice is light and airy. “This is delicate work… I will be right with you.”

“I’m Detective Rogers, this is Detective Weaver, and this is our associate, Lavinia,” Rogers introduces us quickly. “We’re investigating the murder of Dr. Andrea Sage. She purchased something here the morning of her death. Was wondering if you remember seeing her?”

The woman scoffs lightly with sadness as she stands up.

“I remember,” she replies as she turns around. “But I didn’t see her.”

The woman’s eyes are milky and sightless.

_ She’s blind. How the hell is she making all stuff if she’s blind? How is she doing such detailed work without her sight? _

Rogers lowers his head in embarrassment.

“I… I apologize, I didn’t realize…” he starts.

“Dreadful what happened,” she says slowly coming toward us. “Absolutely dreadful.”

None of this seems to have phased Weaver though. He looks at the gingerbread house on top of the display case.

“Bit off-season for gingerbread, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Never,” she replies with a shake of her head. “It’s my number-one seller. Of course Dr. Sage had her usual tea cake that morning. Wanted to let me know in person that my test results came back clean. She was a dear like that. I-I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.”

“And yet someone did,” Weaver says softly.

Rogers starts to head down a side hall toward the kitchen when Hilda speaks up, “Sorry, that’s off limits. Health inspector would have my letter if anyone got into the sugar.” Rogers stops, looking at her suspiciously then he comes back to the front with us. “I wish I could be of more help, but with my condition, you may have better luck talking to the butcher next door.”

She starts to reach for a piece of tissue paper next to the tray of brightly decorated gingerbread men.

“Of course,” Weaver says. “Thanks for your help.”

She places the tissue paper on the back cookie and picks it up.

“Cookie for the road?” she asks as she extends it out to us. “They’re fresh out of the oven.”

As she does this we catch a glimpse of the same symbol that was on Weaver’s gold coin, on her wrist. All three of us look at each other knowingly.

“Oh, no, thank you,” Rogers says softly. “Though, they look delicious. Have a good day.”

She smiles softly and we depart. Walking down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, we move away from the bakery.

“Did you see that?” Rogers asks us. 

“Oh, she may be blind, but I’m not,” Weaver retorts. “She’s obviously hiding something. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.”

“Grand,” I reply. “How would you like to do that?” 

“You don’t happen to know how to pick a lock, do you?” he asks me.

“Sure, why?”

“Because we’re going to go back tonight and investigate,” Weaver informs me. “There’s going to be an anonymous tip that someone is trying to break into that bakery and we are going to be there to investigate. Catch my meaning?”

“I do,” I reply with a nod. “But if you get me stuck in jail, I will make you pay.”

“Watch out, love,” Rogers tells me warningly with a smile. “That’s threatening an officer.”

“Psh!” I reply unconcerned with a playful smile. 

We stop at a nice little deli to get a bite to eat and head back to the station to look over the rest of Dr. Sage’s financials and phone records. Around two is when I get a call from John. After excusing myself and stepping outside, I answer.

“Talk to me, honey,” I say urgently. “Whatcha got?”

“Miss Lavinia, this device is truly remarkable…”

I laugh.

“Yep, now what’s up?”

“Right, forgive me,” he says quickly. “Roni wanted me to tell you that Henry was given a business card by a mysterious man with the name, Baron Samdi. She insists that this man is from her world and goes by the name, Dr. Facilier. In her world, he is a voodoo witch doctor. Henry was given this card, under the pretense of being an investor who was run out of Hyperion Heights some years ago. He seems to want to invest in the bar. Roni and Kelly do not believe this is true. They are going to set up a meeting with him to see if he is awake as they are.”

“Alright,” I nod to myself in thought. “Tell them to be careful. Are we concerned he is intending harm if he is awake?” 

“Roni did not know for sure. She seems to have had several run-ins with him in her world though.”

“Okay, keep close when he shows up. If they need backup, you and Ethan provide it. Tell Ethan that guns are not encouraged inside establishments and killing a man just for being suspicious will land him in jail.”

“I will. And…”

He trails off.

“What’s the matter?”

“Ethan seems to be concerned about the fact that this man is a voodoo witch doctor. Is this truly something to worry about?”

“I’m afraid it is,” I reply with a sigh. “Voodoo is not something to ever play around with. That’s messing with things on the other side of the veil that should be left the hell alone. The dead  should stay dead, and not be contacted.”

“That sounds… concerning,” he tells me softly.

“It can be,” I agree, nodding to myself. “But don’t worry. Okay? We will be fine. Just be cautious, don’t let him brush against you in case he might attach something to your person. Keep a good distance in general.”

“I shall. And I will inform Ethan.”

“Alright. Thanks, John.”

We say goodbye and hang up. I go back in with no intention of telling this to Weaver simply because there isn’t much to tell him. When I have facts I will relay them. Until then, I continue to look through records. When night comes we head back to the bakery. At the back door, I pull out a lock pick set and set to work while Rogers holds up a flashlight for me. As soon as the door is open we enter. The air is thick as we move further into the back room.

“Uh, do you smell that?” Rogers asks.

“Gas,” Weaver replies as he moves quickly in to shut it off.

The ovens are open, the pilot light blown out, and the dials are turned all the way up. The blind woman is laying on the ground next to them, her right wrist is handcuffed to a heavy table. Weaver coughs several times as he fans the air insistently and turns the ovens off. I bend down and check to see if the woman still has a pulse. When I realize that she does I grab the chain of the cuffs and yank, snapping one of the small metal links. Grabbing up this rather thin woman in my arms, I move quickly past Rogers to the back door. I set her down gently in the alley and fan fresh air to her face. Looking her over, I realize that she has a thick lock of hair missing. Just then the Detectives come out.

“There's no one else in there,” Rogers tells me. “And how are you that strong?” 

“She’s not that heavy,” I tell him like it’s obvious.

“I’m talking about the handcuffs…” he starts.

“She’s missing a lock of hair,” I say to them, ignoring Roger’s question.

“The cult…” Rogers says as he bends to look at the woman’s hair.

“Whoever killed our doctor tried to kill our baker, too,” Weaver says. “And whatever they’re up to, I suspect they’re far from finished.”

I look up at them then.

“She’s a part of the cult though,” I remind them. “Unless she just happened to like that particular design for a tattoo, she’s got to be a part of them.”

Weaver and Rogers look at each other thoughtfully. 

“I think we need to have another look at our doctor,” Weaver says. “Rogers, call an ambulance and make sure she gets taken care of. Lavinia, you come with me.”

Rogers nods before he gently takes Hilda from my arms. When he’s closer to me he asks in a whisper, “How were you able to do that?” 

“You won’t believe me,” I tell him sincerely.

“Try me.”

I lean a little closer and whisper, “Genetic modification.”

When I lean back, I nod and stand up. He gives me an irritably skeptical look as I walk with Weaver to his car. We go back to the police station and check out the autopsy photos for Andrea Sage. What we find makes us grit our teeth in annoyance. We’d missed something very critical. At that moment my communication device rings. As it’s just me and Weaver, I answer it in front of him.

“Hey, John, how did it go?” 

“Very well, Roni and Kelly seem to feel that Mr. Samdi is very much still asleep.”

“Okay,” I reply thoughtfully. 

Weaver looks at me then, snaps his fingers, and points to me.

“Let them know we’re coming to the bar,” Weaver tells me as he takes the evidence we’ve just found and puts it in an envelope.

“Catch that?” I ask.

“Yes, I’ll let them know.”

“See ya soon.”

We hang up and I look at Weaver curiously.

“It’s time we let Regina know that I’m awake. If Zelena, or Kelly, is there, then we’re going to put them to work helping us.”

“Alright,” I tell him as I get up. “Let’s get going.”

He nods and we head for his car once more. The drive is short. After Weaver parks the car we move quickly to the front door of the now closed bar.

“So, Facilier’s asleep?” Kelly asks Roni as we come in.

“Well,” Weaver says loudly, “that makes one of us.” They both look at us startled. John and Ethan sit at the bar as well and turn to smile at me as Weaver goes on, “Nice to see you again, Regina. I see you didn’t return empty-handed.”

He points to Kelly who smiles and looks him over.

“The Dark One in denim,” Kelly says snarkily. “How quaint.”

“Oh, so now you’re awake?” Regina snaps at him. Then she looks at me, “And you knew?”

“I did tell you not to worry about him,” I tell her apologetically.

“But I came to you for help,” she rounds back on him.

“I had an alliance with Belfrey, which precluded my being honest with you,” he tells Roni. “And I asked Lavinia to keep this between ourselves. As I am one of her charges, I felt I had the right to make such a request.”

“And now that Belfrey is dead and the coven’s come to town,” Kelly says with thick sarcasm, “What, you just circle back around to us for help?”

“That’s not the only reason I came here,” he says as he digs into his pocket for the envelope. “I had thoughts that the coven killed Dr. Sage. Lavinia did not agree with them which kept me searching. Today there was another attack on a member of the coven. That’s caused me to re-evaluate. Turns out, the doctor had a scar we missed upon our first look at her autopsy.”

He takes out the picture and places it on the bartop. Kelly looks at it first then Roni before she passes it over to Ethan and John. 

“Looks like a tattoo removal,” Roni says to Weaver. Kelly’s eyebrows go up in surprise while Roni presses her teeth together for a moment, then speaks, “Apparently, in my cursed persona, I made some poor decisions. I mean, who loves Def Leppard lyrics that much? ...Had to be done.”

I snort a laugh at this while Kelly gives her a wicked smile.

“I recognize this,” Kelly says when she gets the picture back from Ethan. “Looks like…”

“Eight spokes on a wheel,” Weaver cuts her off. 

“The doctor obviously wasn’t killed by the coven,” I say. “She was  _ in _ the coven.”

Weaver nods.

“That makes what you said before, very, very true,” he tells me.

“Someone’s killing witches,” Roni says softly.

Kelly’s face goes dark as she grabs her glass of whiskey.

“Well, pour some sugar on me,” she hisses as she downs it.

“I think another drink’s required…” Weaver says to Roni. “For all of us.”

“Wait,” Ethan says holding his hand out to Roni, “are you saying that you’re a witch?”

She looks at him for a moment with measured emotions before she answers.

“Yes,” she tells him. “And so is Kelly.”

“I’m the wicked kind,” Kelly says as she leans over the bar top to grab glasses and whiskey.

Ethan looks at me startled. I wave my hands quickly and shake my head.

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t  _ that _ kind of witch,” I try to assure him. Looking back at Roni, I ask, “You’re not a nightwalker right? The kind of witch in service to Lucifer?”

Roni balks at me with a hint of offense at my words.

“Absolutely not,” she snaps. 

“Me either,” Kelly says loudly. “Only one I ever served was myself.”

“And like I said before, we  _ were _ evil and then we reformed,” Roni tells Ethan and me.

Ethan’s tense shoulders ease a bit at this.

“From what I’ve seen,” I tell him quickly. “This is nothing like what we had to deal with. There’s evil here, for sure, but not like back in London. That was… ”

Ethan nods quickly. I take his glass and push it toward Kelly. She quickly fills it more than is usual for a bartender and hands it back to me. Placing it in front of Ethan, I rub his back soothingly. 

“I promise you,” Roni says as she comes closer to Ethan, “we don’t hurt innocents anymore. In fact, we go out of our way to make sure we don’t.”

“Right,” Kelly agrees.

This seems to make Ethan feel a bit better. He must have remembered that they have been genuinely kind to us. Ethan nods and downs his drink in three gulps. Some time later we all make our separate ways home and to bed. Regina tells me she has something she wants to check out. She leaves and doesn’t return until morning. 

The next morning, I get a call from Weaver telling me to come into the station. I do some yoga, get ready, and make my way there while Ethan and John get to work in the kitchen. As I come in, I see Tilly walking away from Rogers’ desk with a concerned look on her face.

“Hey, Tilly,” I say as she passes.

She only gives me a little nod and goes out the door. Weaver beats me to Rogers’ desk.

“What’s wrong with Tilly?” I ask.

“Yeah, she looked a little off,” Weaver adds.

“I’m not sure,” Rogers says with a sigh. “It’s just Tilly being Tilly.” He puts his hand to his chin in mild concern and annoyance. “So, what’s the word on our Blind Baker?”

“I called this morning and it would seem she’s enjoying the finest medical care in Hyperion Heights,” Weaver replies. “I posted a patrol outside of her room. My suspicion is, this killer goes for easy prey, so I’ve just made things a little bit more difficult. With a bit of luck, it will help flush them out.”

“I question why you think this killer likes easy prey,” I reply with a raised eyebrow. “Is it simply because she was blind? Woman was sharp as an obsidian knife yesterday when Rogers tried to make his way into the kitchen.”

“True,” Rogers says with a nod.

“I think it’s possible that they’ve just got a kill list that happened to have the blind baker as number two. The first woman killed was at a public hospital with cameras everywhere.”

“All of which were watched,” Weaver says, agreeing with me. “Nothing was found other than her talking to patients and doing paperwork.”

“Right, but what did she really die of,” I ask, sitting on the edge of his desk. “We don’t know if it was something she ingested or something someone tagged her with as they passed by her in the hall. Some poisons can make a death look natural. Belladonna for instance. Just a smidge too much of that and you go down and don’t come back up.”

“You said that it was something that left her in pain,” Rogers reminds me.

“I did,” I nod to him. “Perhaps it was something she was allergic to then? Anaphylactic shock is painful and wouldn’t look like poisoning if it was something in everyday use like bananas.”

“Ahh, but that’s all speculation,” says Rogers as he rubs his hand against his cheek.

“True. But I’m just trying to make the point that I don’t think this person likes easy prey. However, I do think posting a patrol was a smart move.”

“Thank you,” Weaver replies, bowing his head. “And you’re right. We’ll have to be vigilant.”

“So, everyone in that cult is in danger,” Rogers goes on, “but we don’t have a bloody clue who they are.”

“Well,  _ we _ don’t,” agrees Weaver. “But Eloise Gardener does. She may have decided to vanish in the wake of Victoria’s death. But that doesn’t mean to say we won’t find her. And I know we will. She’s the key that’s gonna open all the locks.”

I hear someone approach from behind and turn to see Gothel just as she says, “Then, by all means, let’s open them. I think it’s time we all had a little talk.” She looks at the men with a stoney face before she looks at me with interest. “I’ve been wanting to have one with you, especially.”

I cringe in disgust at her words. 

“The last time someone talked to me like that, they died,” I whisper under my breath.

She raises an eyebrow. 

“Quite an interesting individual, aren’t you?” she asks me as she looks me up and down. “...Promising.”

She reminds me of those disturbing emotionless dolls at Evelyn Poole’s house. The ones that Hecate burned. Rogers interrupts my thoughts as he stands and leads the way to an interrogation room. While he has her sit, Weaver sets me up on the other side of the one-way glass to listen in. Then he goes and takes his place next to Rogers, across from Gothel.

“You have a chance to save some lives here, all right?” Rogers asks her. She nods and he goes on, “All we need is a list of the members of the cult, and then we can get to them before the killer does.”

“We’re not a cult,” she says pointedly. “We’re a group of women with shared ideals. Why do people like you always have to put a label on that? Like cult or coven or… I don’t know… witches?”

“Is that label so far astray?” Weaver asks with his arms crossed over his chest. She presses her lips together in irritation. “Where were you the night of Victoria Belfrey’s death?”

Without moving anything else, she turns her gaze to Weaver then Rogers, then Weaver again.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “Am I a suspect now?” Gothel looks at Rogers then. “And since when was this about me, Detective Weaver? I came here to help you find a killer.”

“Of course you did,” Rogers says quickly. “I apologize for my partner.”

“I don’t want an apology,” she says with a suddenly cute expression. “I want him gone.” An exhale of amusement comes from her before she continues, “You and I always have such nice conversations, Detective Rogers. And I did say I was looking forward to a conversation with Miss Lavinia. So, if I can’t talk to you alone or her, I don’t talk at all.”

Then she proceeds to clam right up. They get nothing else from her and decide to excuse themselves from the room for a moment. Pulling me away from the one-way window, we make our way back to their desks and turn on a T.V. that allows us to watch what she’s doing in the interrogation room. 

“Why does she want to talk to you so badly?” Rogers asks.

“I suspect it’s because she senses something about me that she could find useful,” I mutter as I watch her twiddle her thumbs. 

“Neither one of you wants to go in there by yourselves,” Weaver warns us as he sits down in his chair. I sit quietly on Rogers’ desk and watch the screen as he goes on, “That woman’s life’s work is manipulation.”

“Yeah, she manipulates lonely, lost girls,” Rogers says as he looks back at his partner. “And I’m none of those things.”

“She seemed to have you convinced she was all sweetness and light the other day…” I say softly.

He gives me a dirty look before he waves his hand at the screen.

“I’ll be fine,” he insists. “It’s not like she’s an actual witch.”

I look back at Weaver and we share an exchange of silent thoughts.

“Yeah, well,” Weaver goes on, “whatever she is, I assure you she’s not going to give up her answers easily.”

“Why?” Rogers as coyly. “‘Cause she won’t talk to you?” He stands up then and grabs his notepad. “I spent years looking for her. Yeah, she turned out different than I expected, but I know her. She likes to be in control.”

Weaver brings his hands together and rests his chin on them.

“Yeah, you got that part right,” he says.

“Yeah, so I’ll let her  _ think _ she’s in control,” Rogers says like it's the most obvious thing to do. “Then I’ll rope her in, break open the case.”

“That is such a terrible plan,” I mutter as I shake my head. Then I look at him and say earnestly, “She’s good at playing people. She’s already played you. You need to understand that you are too close to this woman and she will use that to her advantage.”

Rogers turns back to look at me with an expression of surprise and gratefulness.

“Are you seriously worried about me?” he asks, his voice soft. “Because you’ve seemed cooly distant up until now.”

“That’s rather rude,” I reply with slight annoyance. “I answered all your questions the other day and I even bossed you into going home to sleep.”

The corners of his mouth curve up as he shrugs.

“I guess…” he says as he appraises me. Then he looks to Weaver, “Listen, I want to solve this as badly as you two do.”

I exhale loudly.

“Fine, you go in there and you get your answers,” Weaver tells him with a wave of his hand. “But do not let that woman inside your head.”

Rogers half rolls his eyes before he nods and heads for the interrogation room. Then a thought seems to come to him and turns back to look at me. 

“What if she insists on talking to you?” 

I turn my attention completely to him and with deadly seriousness, I say, “You tell her, I don’t talk with devils that have pretty faces.”

With nothing more to say I turn back to the screen. Eventually, Rogers enters the room and sits down across from Gothel.

“Alright, you win,” he tells her. “Detective Weaver’s gone out for a coffee. It’s just us now.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks down into her lap.

“Oh, I doubt he went anywhere,” she says, then she looks up at the camera. “But as long as I can look at your face and not his, I’m a happy girl.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“Have you ever thought about taking a razor to that face of yours, Detective? I bet you look nice clean-shaven,” she smiles cutely at this.

I roll my eyes. Rogers doesn’t seem to care about responding to that.

“Tell me, why did you come in today?” he asks as he rifles through the pages of his notepad.

Something seems to catch her eye on one of them.

“Because I want the same thing that you do,” she replies when she looks back up at him. “I want to prevent women like me from being killed.”

“Well, tell me who they are, and I’ll protect them,” he says, cutting to the chase.

“And you really think you’re capable of that? It’s not that easy. First, you have to know who you really are. And right now you have no idea.”

“And you think you do?”

“I think the answer’s closer than you ever imagined,” she says before she leans across the table to his notebook and flips some pages over. What she reveals is so small, and thanks to the T.V., blurry, I can’t tell what it is. “A picture really is worth a thousand words, isn’t it? I wonder what this one means, deep down.”

“It’s just a doodle. It’s an old habit,” Rogers tells her offhandedly.

“Maybe older than you know,” she replies as she scoots the notepad back to him. “There are so many patterns around you, you can’t see yet. Patterns that govern your actions. And mine. And the killer’s.”

“What kind of patterns?” he asks with irritation. 

“If you want to learn the truth about the killer, first, you need to learn the truth about yourself.”

“Alright, you seem to know everything,” Rogers leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Oh, I can’t see all the patterns. I can’t. But I do know how to search for them. And if you’re ready to uncover yours, you just need to do one small thing for me.”

“What is that?” he asks.

“Bring me your favorite painting,” she replies. “One you’ve done.”

He looks at her startled for a moment then nods. Rogers stands, collects his notepad, and goes to leave the room.

“Oh, and Detective Rogers,” she calls. “May I please speak with Miss Lavinia now?”

He stops, his hand on the knob. Slowly, Rogers turns to look at her.

“I’m afraid she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“She said that? Specifically?”

“She said, ‘that she doesn’t speak with devils that have pretty faces,’” Rogers says embarrassed.

Gothel opens her mouth in an ‘ah-ha,’ sort of fashion as she nods.

“I think she might reconsider when she learns I know about her door,” she says softly.

“Well, son of a bitch,” I whistle from my spot on Rogers’ desk. “She’s been spying on me.”

“Isn’t it possible that she might actually know about it, I mean really?” ask Weaver behind me.

“No,” I reply as I stand up. “I originate from outside of all stories. She has no idea what is beyond her own.”

“Are you going to go talk to her?” asks Weaver, startled.

I stand, watching Rogers leave the room, thinking. She looks up at the camera again, as if she’s trying to let me know she knows I’m watching. A smile comes to my mouth.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

“That is a dangerous plan,” Weaver says as I start to go to the room.

He follows me.

“Not for me,” I tell him. “What is dangerous is that she’s gotten into Rogers’ head already and he has no idea.”

“Aren’t you afraid for yourself?” he asks me with concern.

“No, I can’t stay dead so, what do I need to be afraid of? Also, there’s the fact that I once shouted Charles Xavier out of my own head… He bought me the most gorgeous shoes because of it.”

Rogers meets us halfway down the hall.

“Are you really going to go talk to her? And what is this about a door?” Rogers asks concern lacing his voice as well.

“She means my front door. She’s a stalker,” I reply with a shrug. “And yes.”

I step around him and continue to walk.

“Just be careful,” he calls to me.

“You too,” I reply with a wave over my shoulder. 

I hear an exasperated sigh from Weaver as he changes directions and follows Rogers back the way we’d come. Reaching the door to the interrogation room, I turn the knob and go in. Gothel sits there looking pleased as punch to have me come visit her. 

“Miss Lavinia,” she says softly. “It’s a pleasure to finally get to have you alone.” I step in and take a seat in front of her. She goes on, “I know quite a few things about you and I’ve felt we should talk. I’m curious to know what all you can… do.”

Her eyes travel my body then like she’s deciding if she’s hungry.

“You’re quite the predator,” I muse as I watch her face. “A predator in a skirt.”

“A woman has to become what she must in order to survive,” she tells me.

“I know a little something about that.”

“I bet you do,” she replies in an almost flirtatious manner. 

“One of the things that baffles me,” I say as I recline into the chair across from her, “is this obsession that predatory psychopaths have with me. Last one I met wanted to take me by force and make me his bitch. What exactly is it that you want from me?”

“I want to understand what you’re doing here,” she tells me simply. “I understand you are not one of them. And you’re most certainly not someone from this world. What exactly are you?”

“I’m a Traveler,” I tell her without fear. “I ensure that stories maintain purity where it’s most important.”

“And you believe that Weaver is an important part of this, ‘purity,’?” she asks.

“I know it.”

“Do you know his history?”

“Roughly.”

“And you think that he is still the one you should attach yourself to?”

I nod.

“Why? Are you wanting me to attach myself to you?”

“It would be the smarter choice.”

I laugh at this and tap the table.

“Well, if that isn’t amusing... Thank you for the laugh,” I say as I stand up.

“Aren’t you concerned about someone trying to sabotage your door?” she asks me suddenly.

This makes me stop and I grin as I look back at her.

“Oh, my,” I say brightly. “Tell me, did you see Gersham come through it with your own eyes or with someone else’s?”

She smiles at me sweetly.

“It was very intriguing to see your friend come through a door that leads to nothingness,” she confesses. “How exactly does it work?” 

“It wouldn’t do you any good to know,” I tell her with fake sadness. “And no, I don’t worry about anyone messing with it. It wouldn’t allow such silliness.”

“ _ It  _ wouldn’t allow?” she says with slight surprise. “Goodness, is it alive?”

“In a manner of speaking. Really it won’t do you any good to know such things. You can’t touch it… even if you were a, um, what did you call them? Witch? Hmm.”

I look at her meaningfully. She examines me again.

“You really are a lovely creature,” she tells me softly. 

I smile, flashing my sharp teeth.

“I’m really not so lovely, once you get to know me,” I reply as I walk to and then out the door.

When I get back to the desks, Weaver is waiting for me with intrigue in his eyes.

“That was rather enlightening,” he tells me.

“It was,” I reply with an agreeing nod. “It’s nice to know she’s got a touch of spy in her.” 

Tilly comes in then and looks directly at the T.V. behind us. The expression on her face is instant panic.

“Something’s bad, something’s broken, something’s wrong,” Tilly says in a soft panicky voice as she starts to pace back and forth. “I’m not mad, I’m not mad.”

“Tilly, Tilly,” Weaver says to her soothingly. “You can’t be back here.”

She looks at him as if seeing him for the first time.

“Oh, hey, there, Weaver,” she says with a forced grin. “Um, I’m glad to see your face. I came by earlier, but, um, Rogers, he didn’t want to play the game with me... I tried to warn him. But there’s bad things in the air.”

As she speaks, her voice gets tighter, the words come out faster and she starts to get teary-eyed. She looks back at the Gothel on the screen and points. I watch her twitchy movements, like a junky that needs their next fix. 

“Tilly, Tilly, calm down,” Weaver tells her softly as he comes closer to her. “Everything’s fine.”

“No, everything’s not fine,” she interrupts him, tears threatening to spill over. “You brought a monster in here, and I can see her for what she really is!”

“Whoa,” I say softly to myself as I go over to her. 

Tilly looks at me with big eyes, full of fear. There is clarity there, not a hunger for drugs. She’s sensitive to things, perhaps she can really feel the shifting of events. But she has such a lack of ability to relay them that she sounds crazy. I slowly and gently put my hands on her shoulders, looking directly into her blue eyes.

“Tilly,” I say softly, “we know very well that that woman is a monster.” Tilly’s face softens slightly at my words. “Now, what is it that you're afraid of when it comes to her? Are you afraid she’ll hurt you or someone else?”

Her chin tremors slightly as tears start to run down her face. Then she slams herself into my chest and clings to my shirt. I wrap my arms around her and start to rub her back in a circular motion. Weaver watches us with interest. 

“We believe you, Tilly,” Weaver tells the girl soothingly.

That’s when Rogers comes in with a medium-sized framed canvas under his arm. It’s a beautifully painted picture of a ship on the water. The style is reminiscent of Monet.

“How did it go?” he asks me as he eyes Tilly.

“Well, she knows nothing of actual interest about me,” I tell him with a shrug. “However, I think she’s bi because she was eyeballing and flirting with me pretty hard.” I look at Weaver then and shrug again. Tilly jerks back at those words and looks at me as I say, “I seem to attract some of the nastiest psychopaths…”

Rogers eyes me, then looks at the screen, then back at me.

“Perhaps it’s a tactic,” he says to me. “She was doing much the same with me.”

“Do you not get hit on often?” I ask with a raised eyebrow as I watch him set the painting down on his desk. “I find that hard to believe…” Rogers looks at me sharply as if he’s surprised I would say this. “It wasn’t any kind of tactic.”

This seems to catch him off guard while he’s trying to take his jacket off. When he recovers he looks me up and down then shakes his head. Tilly looks at the painting, then at Rogers.

“Uh, what’s-what’s that?” she asks quietly.

Rogers doesn’t look at her as he puts his jacket on the back of his chair.

“It’s a painting of mine,” he tells her. “I thought I told you to go home.”

“No, no, no,” Tilly says urgently as she moves from my arms and picks the painting up. “You can’t show this to the monster. She’ll use it, and then she’ll try to hurt you, and I don’t want you to be hurt!”

Tilly says this, holding the painting in her hands as she points at the screen behind Rogers. He grabs at the painting with annoyance as he tries to push her away.

“Get out of my way, or I’ll have to have you escorted out,” he orders her.

She lets go of the painting with a hurt expression on her face. Looking back at Weaver then me, I see her begging for help to stop Rogers. 

“You told me you believed me,” she tells Weaver and me.

“We do,” Weaver tells her. “And I promise, nothing bad’s gonna happen, but right now… you have to go home.”

I glare at him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Detective Weaver,” I say firmly. Looking back at Tilly I add, “I will protect Rogers. I can and I will. So, I’m asking you to trust me and let me do my job.”

“You all want me to leave though?” she asks as she looks around.

“I’d love for you to stay,” I tell her sincerely. “I think you’re very perceptive. However, you are making it hard to work when you panic so violently.”

“I’ll be calmer,” she says earnestly.

“Sweetie,” I smile as I touch her face, “that isn’t the point. Having that woman around is obviously affecting you in a very negative way. Please, go somewhere you feel safe, and let me protect these guys. Can you do that?”

Tilly looks at me with big eyes that are so very worried before she slowly nods.

“I’m trusting you to keep them safe,” she tells me.

I smile and nod.

“Thank you,” I reply with a reassuring smile. “Though, I have to ask, please don’t hold it against me if there are scrapes and bruises. Men don’t always listen so well.”

I wink at her and this seems to make her smile.

“I’ll try,” she tells me.

Slowly she makes her way to the front door, looking back at us a couple of times. Rogers starts to walk away before I call to him.

“You know,” I say softly as he looks back at me, “next time, try more honey than vinegar with that girl. Hmm?”

He gives me a weary look then heads to the room. I go back over to his desk and sit on it once more to watch.

“Trying to get them together while they don’t even know who they are to each other, it’s a bit of a fool’s errand, isn’t it?” Weaver asks me softly from behind.

“Love is never a fool’s errand,” I reply, not looking back at him.

“Ah, that is true,” he agrees.

Rogers enters the room and sets the painting on the table. Gothel pulls it closer and looks at it closely.

“It’s beautiful,” she tells him. “The calm before the storm.”

Rogers stands away from her, his arms crossed, a fake smile on his face.

“Tell me about the killer,” he says.

Gothel crosses her arms and nods at the painting.

“You don’t get answers until you give some,” she tells him. Then she moves the canvas to make it easier for him to see. “Now, come here, look at the painting, and tell me what it really means to you.”

Rogers looks away from her for a moment before he says, “Fine.” Coming back over to the table, he sits down and sighs. “As a child, I loved the ocean,” he starts. “I always wanted to visit. Then I grew up, forgot about it, and it’s a distant memory. That’s all.”

He gives her a forced smile again. Elbows on the table, Gothel props her chin up on her raised hands.

“It must have been quite a day when you finally got out there,” she says. “You must have felt like a real sea captain.”

“Actually, I’ve still never been,” Rogers replies, he’s losing his patience.

Gothel’s hands go down and she leans closer, a look of sadness on her face.

“But the ocean’s so close. I mean, why-why not grab your special someone and go touch the sea?”

This seems to irritate him greatly and suddenly.

“Because I don’t have anyone! Is that what you want to hear?!” Rogers snaps at her.

She leans a little closer to him and smiles.

“Yes,” she replies. “They say all great art starts with pain. And now I know yours.” Gothel leans back in her seat and goes on, “The killer is also grappling with pain… an unfillable void, if you will. And just like you, they’re looking for a way to express that pain, to externalize it in a way that only makes sense to them. Both the doctor and the baker were given a gift before they were attacked. A heart-shaped candy box filled with chocolate marzipan truffles.”

“That’s quite specific,” Rogers says.

“Everyone has their obsessions. So, if you want to find the killer, all you have to do is follow your heart. Now, if that will be all, I will be leaving.”

Gothel stands, Rogers does the same. Collecting his painting he walks her to the front door of the station. She glances back at me for a moment before she exits the building. Coming back over to his desk, he sets his painting down and sits in his chair without a word. Tapping away at his computer, me still perched on his desk, he glances at me a couple times.

“I suppose you watched everything,” he asks me with a low voice.

“Does that embarrass you?” I inquire softly, with no negative connotation to my tone.

He doesn’t answer that.

“You know you could always bring a chair in here instead of sitting on my desk.”

I chuckle and smile.

“I have this terrible habit of sitting on things that aren’t chairs,” I confess. “Maybe I was a cat in a previous life.”

“A dark-haired Persian,” Weaver says with a tone of amusement. “I could see that.”

I look back at him and smile.

“I like the sound of that.” Turning back to Rogers, I ask, “Would you prefer I get a chair and bring it over here? I don’t mean to invade your personal space.”

“...No, th-that’s not it,” he replies as he looks at his computer screen without really seeing anything. “I just wanted you to know that you could.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” I tell him. “Now, what are you looking up? Marzipan truffles maybe?”

“You are a very clever woman,” he tells me with a nod.

“I can be,” I reply humbly.

Rogers sets to work looking up local candy stores in the Hyperion Heights area. The only one that sells exactly what Gothel described is a mom-and-pop kind of place called Sweeties. Rogers calls them, informs them who he is, and requests the information he needs, and why. They are horrified and quickly give him a list of places that they have delivered to in the last two days. Aside from the baker Hilda, the last place they delivered to was GJ House- Flowers & Gifts. It’s a typical flower shop with a wide variety. It’s pretty and smells like earthy green to me when we enter.

“You’d think a member of the occult would work somewhere less cheery,” Rogers says as he looks around.

I chuckle at this, “Why? Don’t you think witches and the like want pretty things too?”

He gives me a sidelong glance before he bobs his head in agreement. Coming up to the counter we see a heart-shaped box.

“I think it’s about to get a lot less cheery,” murmurs Weaver.

“The woman who runs this place could be the next target,” Rogers adds.

An elderly, dark skinned man comes over to us wearing a blue apron and glasses. 

“Hello, there. How can I help you?” he asks.

Weaver pulls his badge out and says, “Hyperion PD. We’d like to speak to the woman who received this package. A… Luanne Hoffs-Drawler. Is she here?”

“No,” replies the man with concern. “Luanne was my wife. She passed away years ago. What’s this all about?”

Weaver grits his teeth and stomps out.

“Thank you for your time,” Rogers says quickly.

He takes my arm gently and pulls me out the door too.

“Who the hell sends chocolates to a dead woman?” I ask when we get out onto the sidewalk. “That’s shady. And mean.”

“This whole thing was a set up,” growls Weaver as he points his finger at Rogers. “I warned you of Eloise. Either she’s distracting us or the killer is using her to distract us.”

“From what?” Rogers asks. “It’s not as if we have any leads or even know who the next target is.”

“We know the last one, the baker in the hospital,” Weaver reminds him. “That’s where we’re going next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S RAMBLINGS: Hello, dearies! I hope everyone's Friday is going good. I should be finishing up Lavinia's next grand adventure by next week. Then I'll be editing and revising and nit-picking at it to make sure it's absolutely delightful for you guys. Also, next week, a friend and I are getting to work on our children's story that we've been planning for a while. I'm sure you guys are just dying to know what it's about and I'd love to go into detail because I'm the biggest spoiler giver ever. BUT, I have promised to keep my trap shut until it's ready for human consumption. What I can say is that it's a slightly dramatized retelling of when we got my three-legged dog from a dog rescue agency. Y'all ever seen a three-legged dog climb a tree? I friggin' have! Anywho, have a lovely day!

Arriving at the hospital we find a very disturbing scene. The guards that were placed outside of Hilda’s room to keep her safe are on the ground. They are dead, throats cut. Rogers and Weaver pull out their guns and make their way over to the slightly open door of Hilda’s room. As we pass by a Code Blue button in the hall, Rogers hits it. An alarm blares. 

_ How did no one hear this? _ I wonder as I eye the dead guards.

Stepping in front of me, Rogers pushes the door open and enters. Weaver and I follow behind him cautiously. Hilda is on the ground in a pool of her own blood. Her face is stuck in shock as she faces the ceiling. Suddenly, Tilly pops up, holding a scalpel, gasping in a panic. 

“Tilly…” Rogers says softly. “What are you doing here?”

She sways back and forth.

“I-I don’t know,” she says trying to suppress tears. “I, uh… I had to be here, but… Uh, I don’t want to be. I-I want to be somewhere else. Somewhere nice.”

“Tilly put the scalpel down,” Weaver tells her as he takes a step closer, putting his gun away.

“No,” she says through gritted teeth. Pointing the scalpel at him and Rogers she says, “No, really, you’re too late. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. You didn’t pay attention,” she points to the dead woman on the ground angrily, “to the thing that matters most, and that’s when people get hurt!”

“I’m sorry, Tilly,” Rogers tells her, putting his hand out to her. “I should have paid more attention. Even Lavina told me that.” Tilly looks at me with pain in her eyes. “Just-just tell me what happened. We can help you.”

“No. You’re too late,” she says with a shaky voice. “Don’t you understand?” Running forward toward us she shouts as she points the scalpel at the woman, “I told you something bad would happen today! And none of you listened.” Throwing the scalpel down as she backs up, she goes on, “And now you’re too late.” 

She turns to the window behind her. Pushing it open she starts climbing through it.

“Tilly!” Rogers shouts

“Don’t!” Weaver yells.

Tilly jumps from the window, lands on a roof just a ways off, and jumps the last story to the ground. She looks up at us as we look out the window at her. I push Weaver out of the way and climb up onto the window sill, preparing to jump out and follow her. Then I feel very strong arms around my ribs, yanking me away from the window.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rogers demands.

“I’m going after her,” I say as I push him off of me. “I won’t get hurt.” Rogers grabs at me again as I move over to the window. “Cut it out! She’s getting away.”

“We’ll find her together, you’re not jumping out of a window, two stories up!”

“I can run through the tops of trees without worry,” I snap as I look back at him. “This would be nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Weaver says as he looks out the window again. “Tillys gone.”

“Hellfire!” I hiss as I yank my arm from Rogers’ grasp. “Last person who grabbed onto me like that got me killed.”

“What?!” Rogers says startled.

“Obviously, I’m fine,” I say with annoyance as I hold out my arms. “Where do we search for her now?”

“The best place would be where she sleeps,” Weaver tells me.

“Well, lead the way,” I say, extending my hand to the door.

“First we’ve got to take care of this,” Rogers says as he looks around at the bodies on the ground.

I groan in annoyance. _ Red tape. _

“Right,” I mutter. “Cops… I guess I’ll go get a coffee then.”

“Probably best,” Weaver agrees as he takes his wallet out and hands me a card. “I’ll have one too. Black, little bit of sugar.”

“Sure,” I reply as I take it. “Rogers? It’s on Weaver…”

“I didn’t say that,” Weaver says as he pulls out his phone.

“Well, if we had kept Tilly at the station with us, this might have been avoided,” I reply as I head towards the door.

Rogers doesn’t answer.

Several hours later, many questions asked by other police officers and hospital personnel, and several hospital sandwiches eaten by myself; we finally get to a rather neglected section of the docks. Several boxcars sit around like a child knocked over its blocks and then walked away. This night is rather dark and chilly. I pull my jacket around me tighter as the detectives go over to a particular boxcar and pull the door open.

“Tilly?” Rogers calls as he steps in. “You here?”

Weaver steps up to an electrical box and flips the big switch with a loud  _ clack _ . The lights spark on and blink a couple of times. The storage container is full of what would seem like junk on shelves and a small table against one wall. A small, lumpy mattress with lots of dirty blankets is against the other. A board at the far wall from us has the symbol of the cult of eight, two of the spokes are crossed out with a red X. Rogers goes over to pull the board out and get a better look. I examine the contents of a shelf at eye level to me.

“No, no, I know how this looks,” Rogers says loudly to us, arguably quite paternal in tone. “But… there’s no way that Tilly killed those women.”

“I would agree,” I say as I pick up a small jar of sand. “She was very distraught that the baker had been killed. Even mad that we didn’t keep the woman alive.”

“Yes, exactly,” Rogers says as he points to the board. “This has to be… her upside-down thinking gone awry.”

“I think it’s a bit more than that, actually,” Weaver says finally. “Tilly had, uh, an ‘experience’ with this cult some years before. They took the one person that mattered most to her.” Weaver glances at me, I catch it out the corner of my eye. “The one person who spent time with her and who could really understand her. Her father.”

“In the eyes of the law,” I say softly, “that would be considered motive. Wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, but… she’s not a killer,” Rogers insists. Stepping close to me he picks up a white knight chess piece. “You don’t think she did this, do you, Weaver?”

Weaver stands for a moment, thinking.

“No, of course, I don’t,” he finally says.

Rogers looks at me and I shake my head.

“Well, then we’re on the same page,” Rogers says with a relieved half-smile. Looking back to Weaver he asks, “So, how do we make this right?”

“I’ll head back to the station and buy us the time we need,” Weaver says as he starts to walk back to the door. He turns suddenly and adds, “But they are gonna want one of us accountable, should anything else happen. So, while I stay there…”

“I’ll find Tilly,” Rogers finishes. “I’ll prove her innocence.”

“Yeah,” Weaver replies with a nod. “And you might want to take Lavinia. The PD doesn’t exactly know she’s working with us and she’ll be very helpful. I’m sure.”

“Ugh… red tape,” I mutter as I roll my eyes. “I hate that junk. Yeah, I’d rather go search for Tilly anyway. Have fun, make friends.” Weaver looks at me with an eyebrow raised. “Sorry, old habit. Good luck.”

He nods and walks out. Rogers shuts off the power after I’ve exited and then shuts the door. We walk back to Weaver’s car so that he can take us to Rogers’; it’s still at the station. Once we get into his Chevy Chevelle we take off for what he calls the troll. 

“It’s the only other place that Tilly spends the most time at,” he tells me.

“I see,” I reply as the engine rumbles. “...Why is Tilly living in that uninsulated container?”

“She’s homeless,” he tells me. “She makes a little money off of stolen watches, there isn’t enough in that for a proper apartment.”

“Why haven’t you offered to help her get up on her feet then?”

“We aren’t that close,” he tells me. “We only recently met.”

“Ah,” I say with understanding. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being so personal, but Tilly seems to think very highly of you. I don’t think she holds you as much at arm's length as you do.”

Rogers stays silent for a short while.

“...Tilly is an informant,” he tells me. “It would be unprofessional to get close to her.”

“I see,” I say with a nod. “Yeah, because helping out a girl who needs people that give a shit about her totally fits under the category of, ‘unprofessional’.”

I shake my head and look out the window. 

“It’s not that… I’m not worried about what others would think…”

Then it hits me.

“You’re afraid you’re gonna get too close,” I reply without looking at him. “That  _ is _ a scary thought. When your heart adopts someone… that can be painful and wonderful at the same time.” I exhale slowly, knowing too well what he’s feeling. “Well, it hardly matters right now. We need to figure out where we are going to stash her once we find her.”

“Yes…” Rogers says slowly. “I think I might know of a place.”

“Good,” I reply as we approach the end of a street.

There, across the way is a sculpture of a ginormous troll against a support pillar of the highway above. One eye is covered in some kind of shiny metal. Tilly is standing in front of it, looking up at its face. When she hears the rumbling engine of Rogers’ car, she turns and looks at us with fear. She starts to pull the hood on her jacket over her head when Rogers roars across the street and stops right before her. 

Jumping out of the driver’s seat, after he’s put it in park, Rogers shouts, “Tilly! Get in the car.”

A siren wails in the distance.

“No, nuh-unh,” she tells him. “You didn’t believe me before. And now someone is dead.”

Roger’s head falls in disappointment.

“I know,” he says looking back at her. “I should have listened to you and I’m sorry. But I believe you now.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” she says with glassy eyes. “Really, I didn’t. I swear.”

“Tilly, you can trust me. Us. We just want to help you. Just please, get in the bloody car.”

The wailing sirens are getting closer. Tilly doesn’t hesitate this time as she bolts for the car. I move quickly into the backseat so that she can take the front passenger seat. Rogers jumps in as well and takes off down the road, the engine roaring. Tilly keeps insisting that she didn’t kill the baker as we arrive at an apartment building. Once we spill out I wrap my arm around Tilly’s shoulders as we follow Rogers up several flights of stairs to a door, marked 815. Rogers instructs Tilly to stay out of sight around the corner. Rogers knocks softly and the door opens quickly.

“Ivy, what was that…” Henry says before he suddenly stops. He looks confused at Rogers, then at me. “Rogers? Lavinia?”

I wave with forced and confused cheer.

“Henry, are you here alone?” Rogers asks, looking past Henry.

“Yeah… Uh, yeah, why? What’s going on?” he replies, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

Rogers turns around to Tilly and calls her forward.

“Hey, come here,” he says softly to her. She steps forward and Rogers turns back to Henry, “Police are after us. We need a place to hide for a minute.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Henry says confused, waving a hand in the air. “You are the police.”

“No. Not right now, I’m not. Just let us in and I’ll explain.”

Henry doesn’t hesitate at this request, he jumps back out of the way.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Come in,” he insists.

I smile and usher Tilly in, Rogers follows us.

“Henry, you are terribly sweet,” I tell him.

He gives me a soft, though confused smile.

“Lavinia, will you get Tilly settled on the couch? She needs to get some sleep. You should too,” Rogers tells me.

“I’m fine,” I reply as I lead Tilly over and sit her down. 

Taking off her jacket before she lays down, I place it over her like a blanket. Then I pull my own off and put it on her as well. As soon as her head touches the arm of the couch, her eyes start to droop.

“You’re really a nice person,” Tilly tells me with a smile.

“...You are safe here,” I tell her soothingly. “We will watch over you. Sleep now.”

She nods and drifts off. I sit down on the coffee table and gently push some of her blonde hair away from her face. Henry insists that Roger and I sleep too before we explain what’s going on. I’m rather touched by his thoughtful insistence. Someday I will have to let Roni know that she did a great job raising her son. 

Rogers takes a chair across from Tilly. Henry tries to offer me his bed, insisting he can sleep in the other chair in the living room. I decline and encourage him to go to bed. I take the chair he’d indicated, prop my sock-covered feet up on the coffee table, shoes on the ground near my chair, and drift off in my still alert way. 

When early morning comes the three of us get up quietly and Rogers begins telling Henry about what’s happened. Henry makes coffee for us. Several hours go by while Henry asks questions and Rogers answers before he continues his recount of things.

“It just doesn’t add up,” Henry says quietly in disbelief. “Tilly wanted for murder? I mean, come on, she couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Except for that time she shot Weaver.”

Henry and I both look at him startled.

“Wait… what?” Henry says.

“I second that,” I add.

“She was having trouble with her medication. She didn’t mean to,” he assures us. “That’s why we need an alibi. Somebody who can place her somewhere else at the time of the murders. I don’t know, like a… like a friend.”

“A friend?” asks a groggy Tilly skeptically. We turn and look at her. “No. Don’t really have too many of those.”

“Hey, you’re awake,” Henry says with a soft smile as he comes around the counter and me to the living room. “How are you feeling?”

Tilly grins and sits up.

“Splendid, thank you. Your couch is marvelously comfy. And Lavinia, your jacket smells so pretty, I had wonderful dreams.”

This makes me laugh and I dramatically cover my face playfully like I’m embarrassed. This earns me a giggle from her. Rogers gets up and goes to sit in the chair across from her.

“I am so glad to hear that,” I tell her.

“Tilly, I need your help,” Rogers says, getting down to business. “I got a text message from Weaver a couple of hours ago and the M.E. places the time of death at three-twenty p.m.” Tilly’s face goes dark and concerned. “Now, we only found you at the hospital after four o’clock. If you were somewhere else, somebody might have seen you.”

Tilly’s face scrunches up.

“Well, why didn’t you say that?” she says like he’s being silly. “I might be short on friends, but I see loads of people all day.”

“Great,” Rogers says enthusiastically. “Well, where were you yesterday between three and four?”

“Now, that’s a bit more of a puzzle. I don’t really remember. Exactly.”

“You don’t remember yesterday at all?” Henry asks.

“Well, once I saw that awful Eloise Gardner, my mind just… Well, something happened. It’s like my mind is two jigsaw puzzles in one box.”

“Okay,” Rogers says slowly. “Well… look, it’s a challenge, but one we can work with. Maybe we can track your moves.”

Tilly grins at this.

“Like a chess match?” she asks with glee.

Rogers smiles at her affectionately.

“Well, more like a, uh, scavenger hunt,” he tells her. 

Something catches his eye on her jacket then. Picking up the sleeve he touches it, then smells it. Finally, he looks at Tilly.

“Did you… did you happen to swing by Sabine’s Rollin’ Bayou food truck yesterday for beignets?” he asks.

Tilly’s eyes get big.

“I did,” she says then gasps. “Brilliant, Detective! Shall we?” 

She jumps up to stand.

“No, no, no,” Rogers says loudly, encouraging her to sit back down. “We shall, but you won’t. Stay put. We’ll be back in an hour.”

Rogers stands.

“I can stay with her,” I say.

“Alright,” Rogers nods to me gratefully.

He and Henry grab their coats and head out the door.

“Well, this isn’t a very fun scavenger hunt, is it?” asks Tilly crestfallen.

I smile at her. 

“Sorry, kiddo,” I tell her with a frown. “Sometimes the only way we can help is by waiting.”

“Well, how about we get to know each other?” she asks with suddenly bright eyes.

I smile at her.

“Over something to eat, perhaps?” I ask.

She grins and nods at me. I head to the kitchen while she comes over to the counter to watch me.

“Do you suppose Henry has some marmalade?” Tilly asks eagerly.

“Let’s see,” I say as I look into his fridge. “Ooh! You, my dear, are in luck!”

I pull the orange jar out and hold it up for her to see like Vana White. Tilly smiles and I start working on toast.

“Why are you working with Detective Weaver and Detective Rogers?” she asks me.

“I’m here to take care of you three,” I reply to her as I set the marmalade and a butter knife in front of her. 

“Take care of us? How do you mean?”

“That depends on who we’re talking about. Each of you has something that you need to achieve. Something that needs to happen. Now, for each of you, it’s different, but somehow you are all three connected.”

“That doesn’t make much sense.”

“Probably not,” I nod as I pull toast out of the toaster and hand it to her. “The real question is, do you believe that I’m here to help you and that I very much care about you three?”

“Yes,” she says without letting silence fall in between my question and her answer. “I knew that from the first time I saw you. I can’t say why. I-I just had this feeling. Ya know?”

I smile and nod.

“I do.”

When our toast and marmalade are eaten we go back over to the couch and kick our feet up.

“Can you really protect them from that Eloise Gardener?” she asks as she gets comfy.

“Yep,” I reply with a definitive nod. “She’s definitely one of the reasons I’m here.”

“Hmm,” Tilly says as she looks at her shoes. “Hey, what’s that?”

She leans forward and pulls something off the side of her shoe. Looking at it closely we see that it’s a produce sticker. Tilly grins at me.

“I know where I was now,” she tells me with glee. “Come on!”

“Tilly, you’re supposed to stay here,” I remind her.

“I’ll wear my jacket with the hood up,” she tells me cleverly. “Come on, I know who I need to ask.”

“...Alright, but when I tell you to hide, you hide.”

She nods and salutes me before she runs over to the door. Tilly leads me quickly to a grocery store called Hyperion Grocery. A large assortment of fruits and vegetables sits out on the sidewalk in simple wooden stands. There’s a dark-skinned woman with lovely hair and an apron tending to the apples when we step up.

“Mrs. Lewis!” Tilly says with happiness. “I’m glad to find you here. Um, I’m in a bit of a pickle and I think you’ve got a piece of the puzzle.” This woman looks at Tilly, then me, with sincere confusion. “See, I was here yesterday. And I need you to say I was. See?”

Tilly holds up the produce sticker.

“Who are you?” the woman asks.

Tilly’s smile drops as does the hand that holds the sticker.

“I come here every day,” Tilly says.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you,” says the woman.

Tilly looks around in frustration before a thought seems to come to her. Grabbing my arm she pulls me inside the store to the back where the deli is. A man with a five o’clock shadow and a red nose is sharpening a butcher’s knife.

“Hello, Mr. Charles,” Tilly says with a smile. He doesn’t seem to hear her. “Mr. Charles?”

His head turns sharply and he sees us finally.

_ Not terribly observant… _

“Ah, sorry, kid. Didn’t see you there.”

Tilly’s face falls slightly then she shakes her head.

“Kid?” she asks. “It’s me… Tilly.” He looks at her quizzically. “Tilly? The girl with the marmalade sandwiches? I get them from you every day.”

“Look, lots of people come in here,” he tells her flatly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”

Tilly’s face falls into despair. She turns away from the deli counter and starts to wander through the store in a daze.

“Tilly?” I call softly.

The sad blonde doesn’t seem to hear me as she walks out of the grocery store and down the sidewalk. I follow along beside her, making sure to keep an eye out for any police. Gently I pull her hood up so that her face is partially hidden. She doesn’t seem to notice. We walk for several blocks when Henry comes out of nowhere and grabs her up.

“Tilly, come here. Come here,” he says in a hushed tone. “What are you guys doing?!”

Henry directs us behind a building into an empty parking lot. Rogers is there, not far off, his car behind him. He comes over to us with an angry face.

“I told you to stay put,” Rogers growls at Tilly. “And you were supposed to keep her there. Somebody could’ve seen her.”

“Nope,” she says sadly. “Nuh-unh.” Tilly looks up at Rogers in sorrow. “No one sees me. I’m invisible.”

“No,” I tell her softly as I take her hand. “No, you’re not.”

“What are you talking about?” Rogers asks with annoyance.

“I was here yesterday,” she tells him as she squeezes my hand unconsciously. “I thought someone might have seen me, but nobody did. I know everyone in the Heights… but nobody knows me.” Rogers’ face loses its anger only to have it replaced with sadness. “What if…” Tilly’s voice breaks, tears come to her eyes. “What if I don’t exist at all?”

Grabbing her up into a one-armed hug I look at Rogers encouragingly. He shakes his head and smiles at her.

“You exist, love,” he tells her as he steps closer to take her free hand. “Or else I’m the mad one, talking to no one. And I’m not mad.” Tilly smiles at this. “If you say you were here, you were here. Just backtrack your moves. Like in chess, remember?”

Tilly grins and nods. I smile as I step back.

“Okay,” she says, then clears her throat. Wiping the tears from her face she goes on, “Right. Well, uh, after I finished the beignets, I grabbed an apple from the bodega, tossed the core in the rubbish bin by the newspaper stand, uh, grabbed a marmalade sandwich, and then I-I” she gets excited, “Ducked into this alleyway to eat it.”

Moving out of my embrace she goes over to a dumpster with excitement.

“Unless you ran into Oscar the Grouch,” Henry says skeptically, “you’re not gonna find an alibi back here.”

Tilly lifts up the lid and starts to dig around. There’s a sudden gasp from her and she pulls out her backpack.

“My backpack!” she says with a grin. “I thought I lost this. Now I know I can at least trust myself. It proves I was here. And, well, maybe there’s something in here that proves I didn’t kill that woman.”

Rogers’ eyes go wide when he notices a police car driving by. Tilly starts to dig into the bag, completely unaware of her surroundings. He rushes over and takes it.

“Maybe, but we can’t… we can’t do it here,” he tells her quickly. “We’re too exposed. Come on.”

I grab Tilly’s shoulders and face her away from the road. Quickly we all move over to Rogers’ car and get in. Rogers drives us back to Henry’s apartment, insisting that we wait to get there to open Tilly’s bag. Once we’re inside Tilly plops down on the couch and starts pulling things out.

“Yesterday…” she says with excitement. “Yesterday… It’s like I was a different person yesterday.”

“Tilly, we need something with a timestamp on it,” Rogers tells her. “To show when and where you were. Like a, uh… Like a receipt, maybe. And I can’t believe that you let her go out there.”

Rogers glares at me.

“First of all, she was perfectly fine as long as her hood was up,” I tell him calmly. “Second, if need be I could have gotten us out of any situation without incident. This is not my first rodeo.”

“Well, that’s curious,” Tilly says as she pulls out two locks of different colored hair. “What are these.”

“Fuck,” I blurt, I can feel the color in my face drain.

Rogers’ face gets tense.

“The, um…” Rogers says softly. “The killer took hair clippings from all of his victims.”

Tilly’s eyes go round and terrified as she drops the locks onto the coffee table.

“Wha…” she whispers as she stands up. “But if I had them, that means that I…”

“Let’s… let’s just try and stay calm,” Rogers tells her quickly.

“Someone is setting you up,” I hiss, growing angry at the realization. “Did you happen to have a board in your boxcar that you painted an eight spoke symbol on?”

Tilly looks at me confused.

“I don’t remember something like that,” she tells me.

I look back at Rogers.

“Tilly is being framed for murders she didn’t do,” I say angrily.

“You don’t know that,” she says urgently. “I don’t know that. Oh! I’ve gone mad, haven’t I? If I can’t remember not doing it… how do I know I didn’t do it?”

“I-I don’t know,” Rogers says loudly over Tilly. “This makes things more complicated, but we don't… we don’t know the full story. And I have a feeling in my gut that you’re not a killer.”

“You just met me, Detective,” she tells him. “You don’t know me. Nobody knows me.”

She reaches down and grabs her bag from the coffee table. 

“Tilly,” Rogers says as she heads for the door. “Tilly, wait.”

I wave my hand at him and move after her out the door. Silently I tail her at a distance. We walk through the night streets. While I’m not sure where Tilly is headed she seems to have a destination in mind. Not once does she hesitate at a corner, she knows where she’s going. She doesn’t seem to know I’m there, which is fine. I’m letting her have her space. Fear and a desire to be good are overwhelming her brain. Fresh air will probably help. Finally, she stops at the base of the troll sculpture. Tilly looks up at him, I wait a good distance off. I know I’m faster now and stronger. If I need to get her out of a sticky situation I am close enough that I can grab her up and move. I’d like to see a cop cruiser follow me over a building. There are people moving all around us for several blocks. People coming toward us, people going away. I can hear them and sense them. It’s almost overwhelming at this moment.

“Do you know how the evidence got here?” she asks the sculpture, holding out her backpack. “You know me better than anyone. I can’t have done it, could I? Or I could’ve done it, can’t I?” Tears fall down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “I really am all alone. I have to leave this place. Before I hurt anyone else.”

Pulling her backpack on over her shoulders, Tilly turns around to walk across the street just at the split second that a car is driving way over the speed limit down the street in front of her. I move instantly to grab for her, but stop myself when someone else walking down the sidewalk towards her jumps to action. They grab her bag and yank her back onto the sidewalk. It’s a young woman a bit older than Tilly. Her hair is long and sandy-colored. She’s strapped down with backpacking gear and different kinds of clothing from all over the world. Tilly looks after the car in disbelief as I come a little closer.

“He didn’t see me,” she says with great disappointment.

“Well, you’re kind of hard to miss,” says the other woman with a chuckle. Tilly turns and stares at her. “I’m sorry. Were you just talking to the troll?”

“Yeah,” Tilly says with disappointment. “I know what you’re thinking… Crazy Tilly, totally bonkers, absolutely mad.”

“Yeah, Kinda,” says the other girl with a smile. “But all the best people are. I just got back from Tibet. Everybody there talks to statues. So… what were you telling the troll?”

“I was…” Tilly says slowly as she looks up at him. “I was saying goodbye.”

“...You’re running away,” says the woman with a sad knowing tone. “I tried that. You know what I found out? Sometimes you just have to look up and face your problems.” Tilly’s face goes a little surprised in thought. The stranger seems to be satisfied with Tilly’s new expression. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Crazy Tilly. Good luck.”

She taps Tilly lightly on the arm with the book that’s in her hands and starts to walk off.

“Hey,” Tilly calls to her suddenly. “What’s that book?”

The young woman turns around and holds it up with a smile.

“Alice in Wonderland,” she replies with a grin. “It’s my favorite.”

She smiles and goes back to walking away. Tilly smiles then and finally notices me. 

“Hello, Lavinia,” she says to me softly.

“Hi, sweetie,” I reply.

“Did you come to try to convince me not to leave?”

“I followed you,” I concede as I step closer, “because I know that you are not the killer.”

She looks up at the troll with disagreement just as Rogers and Henry pull up behind us in his car. Tilly tilts her head as she looks up at the troll’s metal eye. The detective parks his car then Henry opens the passenger door to get out. Leaving it open Rogers looks at us.

“Tilly, Lavinia,” Rogers calls. “We’re out of time. I have to take her in. Tilly, I will find you an alibi. I promise.”

Henry steps closer to us at the same time that Tilly points up at something blinking in the troll’s eye.

“Lavinia, do you see that?” she asks. I look up and nod with a sudden grin. “I think I’ve already found it.”

She looks at me with a smile. I’m all gin and roses back at her.

“A security camera?” Rogers asks from behind us.

I pull Tilly into a one-armed hug again. 

“Well done,” I tell her with relief 

“He saw me,” she says with a grin. “He’s always seen me. And now it seems he can talk.”

“Amen!” I whisper and kiss her hair.

Back a the station Rogers gets on to the security camera footage and starts looking through the day of the baker’s murder. Sure enough, there’s our little Tilly. Walking by at three-twenty p.m. She is very much in the clear. 

“How did I not see it before?” Tilly wonders as she watches her past self. “It was like he was winking right at me.”

“Well, I checked… and the city only recently installed it because of a graffiti problem,” Rogers tells us.

Henry smiles next to me.

“I guess she had a friend after all,” he says with gratefulness.

“But if I didn’t do it,” Tilly says sadly, “that means the real killer is still out there somewhere.”

“And Lavinia was right, the killer was trying to frame you,” Henry adds with thought as he rubs his chin. 

“Well, that’s for me to worry about, isn’t it?” Rogers says. Then with a smile, he adds, “All that matters is that you’re free to go, Tilly.”

Tilly smiles and nods, though something about her expression tells me that she’s still worried about something. She gets a couple of steps away from Rogers’ desk then turns back.

“Detective,” she says.

Rogers looks at her.

“Yeah? What is it?” he asks.

She stares at him for a moment before she shakes her head.

“Nothin’,” she tells him. “Just, thank you. And you too, Lavinia. You made me feel safe.”

I smile at her and bow my head deeply. She waves at us and walks away. 

“Well, that was a fun filled day,” Henry says as I sink down onto Rogers’ desk. 

“Yes, muy fun,” I mutter with a tired smile. “I gotta say, Tilly keeps you on your toes.”

“She certainly does,” Rogers says affectionately with a genuine smile.

_ That’s the first time I’ve seen one of those on his face. It suits him well. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.


	6. Chapter 6

Together, Rogers and I set out for Roni’s bar in silence. After Henry left, when I was about to leave, he asked if he could walk me back to the bar. It’s only after we cross the street from the station that Rogers speaks.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he tells me, hands in jacket pockets, eyes on the sidewalk. “About trying to help Tilly out. You were right, that place she’s living in now is… well, it’s just awful. I’ve got a spare room and central heating. And what with this killer running around, trying to frame her… Do you think she would mind if I invited her to stay somewhere safer?”

A grin comes to me as I look at this pensive and worried man.

“That is a wonderful idea,” I tell him. “I think she would be very appreciative.”

“Yeah? You don’t think she’d be worried about anything… untoward?” he asks, looking at me with concern.

“I seriously doubt that,” I tell him with a smile. “But if you’re worried about it, you can always let her know what your intentions are.”

He nods.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully. “You were really great today. Taking care of her and, as she said, you made her feel safe.”

“I have that effect on people,” I say with a smile and a humble shrug.

“I just wanted to say that I appreciate it,” he tells me earnestly. “I don’t think Tilly’s had that much in her life.”

“I don’t think she has either,” I reply, shaking my head sadly. “But if you’re going to be taking care of her, she will from now on.” He gives me another smile. I nod at him and add, “That looks good on you.”

“What?”

“A smile. You don’t make them very often from what I’ve seen.”

“Ah,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck with embarrassment. “I guess I probably don’t.”

“I imagine that being a detective is hard. Emotionally and physically.”

“Aye. That it is,” he sighs. “Much the same as your job.”

I exhale sharply at this and nod again.

“Well, it’s got its perks,” I tell him with an upbeat air. “I get to travel a lot and I get to try all kinds of different food. Meet crazy people. And sometimes, I get to have a lot of fun.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. From what you described in Weaver’s car, it didn’t sound like there was much enjoyment.”

“I’ve learned to find it where I can. I hope you can do the same.”

We arrive at the door of Roni’s bar.

“Well, it seems like we’re here,” he tells me with a half-smile. “I’d like to thank you again for your help today.”

“You’re so business-like,” I smile teasingly. “Do you ever get to be off duty?”

This makes him smile again.

“Sometimes,” he tells me softly as he leans closer.

Carefully, he places a kiss on my lips. And I don’t stop him. With his facial hair and the smell of his leather jacket, the image of Dean comes into my mind. My hands start to move to his face as I lean into the kiss. Then, suddenly, I pull back and bite my bottom lip as I look at his chest.

“I-I… sorry,” he says softly.

“No,” I say suddenly as I shake my head. “I’m just… not ready to move on like that yet and… Well, the fact is that I can’t stay once I’ve completed my mission.”

“I see,” he says looking down. “I’d forgotten that you were... Even if you could stay, it’s hard to move on from real love.”

I sigh and look away from him with bitter disappointment.

“You remind me of him a bit,” I confess. “Not your personality or the way you move. But the way you smell and your facial hair.” A sad laugh escapes me then as I look up at him. “Hell, you even drive a muscle car.”

My eyes sting as I look at him and a rush of sorrow slams into me hard. It’s damn near crippling. I close my eyes and I feel tears roll down my cheeks. I barely get my palms to my face when I feel Rogers’ arms around me. He holds me in a hug as I take deep breaths trying to get through this latest wave of pain. 

_ I miss Dean  _ so _ damn much.  _

Sorrow gives way to anger at the fact that I am left with only pain right now. Inhaling deeply the scent of the man holding me, I pull back, grab his face, and pull him into a hot, needy kiss.

_ Pretend. Pretend it’s Dean and don’t hold back on this. _

Rogers doesn’t stop me, he just keeps pace. Pulling me closer, our bodies press against each other. The heat I feel between us is comforting and delicious in the cold night air. I feel his bare hand move to my lower back as I push my hands against the thin fabric of his shirt. It's when his hand starts to make its way over my left butt cheek that Rogers pulls away with a small gasp. He looks at me with blue eyes that are wild and apologetic. Quickly he takes his hands off me and takes one step back.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me quickly. “Please forgive me, I shouldn’t have…”

I inhale, closing my eyes, and shaking my head.

“Don’t apologize,” I insist and open my eyes again. “I’m the one who did it.  _ I’m  _ sorry. I took advantage of  _ you _ .”

“No, it was I who took advantage…” he starts.

“Stop it,” I say loudly over him. “Listen, it hardly matters why we kissed. We just did. So, thank you. Now, unless you’re going to sleep with me too, regardless of individual motives, I think you should go home.”

Rogers looks at me with a mixture of emotions on his face. He hesitates for a moment then reaches out to my face with his good hand, he pulls me in for one more kiss. When he pulls back he nods and heads back the way we’d come. I watch him go for a little bit, nod to myself and then turn back to the bar door. Roni and Kelly are at the bar. Kelly has a drink in her hand while Ronis stands behind the bar talking to her sister.

“I’m sorry I hid Facilier from you,” she says. “We may never approve of each other’s questionable life decisions, but I promise to be cards up with you from now on. I promise.”

“Sounds like everyone had a grand day,” I say in a low voice as I come up to the bar. 

“Wow, where have you been?” Roni asks with wide eyes.

“I’ve been running around all damn day trying to find the killer while also trying to prove that the son of a bitch was framing Tilly. What about you guys?”

“Apparently, Facilier is awake,” Kelly tells me before she takes a sip of her martini.

“The killer was framing that girl, Tilly?” Roni asks with wide eyes.

“Yep.”

“Hey, what’s happened?” Kelly asks me, reaching out to my shoulder when she finally looks at my face. “Have you been crying?”

“Oh, my God,” Roni says instantly worried. “Did something happen to Tilly?”

“No,” I reply quickly with a hand wave as I go around the other side of the bar and grab a full bottle of watermelon flavored vodka. “I just had flashbacks. Talk about what you guys learned while I drink this. I’ll find a way to pay you back later.”

“Uh, the entire thing?!” Kelly asks with terror as she watches me spin the lid off and start chugging. 

“Holy shit! Lavinia, stop!” Roni shouts as she grabs the bottle from my hand.

I hear footsteps pounding from the kitchen out to the bar.

“Roni,” I say calmly. “My metabolism is higher than any normal human’s. It will take four of those bottles to get me black out drunk at this point. Now, give me that  _ fucking _ bottle.”

Roni blinks at me with wide brown eyes.

“Vinnie, are you alright?” asks Ethan from behind me.

“No,” I say loudly. “I want to drink until I pass out and Roni’s taken my bottle from me. Damn it, woman! I’ve got gold in my closet and precious stones. You can have your pick.”

“What happened?” John asks, looking from Roni to me..

“Apparently she had flashbacks and wants to kill herself by alcohol poisoning,” Kelly says with wide eyes.

“I can’t  _ die _ !” I screech. “Never!” I’m suddenly gasping for air, tears coming to my eyes again. “Not really…”

“Is it really that bad?” asks John with pain in his voice.

“Roni, just give it to her,” Ethan says over John. “She really will be fine. Trust us.”

Roni eyes him for a moment before she slowly hands me back the bottle. I snatch it.

“Thank you,” I say, scrubbing at my face as I take it and start drinking again. After several big gulps, I look at Roni and say, “Now tell me what happened.”

I place the bottle back on my lips. After a moment of watching me, Roni starts talking.

“Facilier is awake. And he wants Rumple’s dagger.”

“What?” Kelly says astonished.

“What is the significance of that?” I ask with a fourth of the vodka left; no sign of a buzz.

“If he kills Rumplestiltskin with it, he becomes the new Dark One,” Kelly tells me, eyeing the bottle hard.

“Right,” Roni says with a serious look on her face. “And that would be very bad. Dark Ones are very evil and very powerful.”

“They also can’t be killed unless it’s with the dagger,” Kelly adds.

“And…” Roni says as she looks at her sister, “you were right. I have feelings for him. Even after finding that out.”

Kelly smiles at Roni and pats her sister's hand.

“No judgment,” she assures.

The sound of the bar door opening and shutting catches everyone’s attention. We look to see a young woman coming in with big round glasses and a camera hanging on a strap around her neck. I recognize her as the girl that saved Tilly from getting run over.

_ Huh, well that wasn't a coincidence… _

Finishing off my bottle, I grab another and go around to sit at a barstool. Kelly gasps when she sees the girl. She gets up, eyes glassy, and goes over to her.

“Mom?” the young woman says with a small smile to Kelly as she walks forward.

“Margot…” Kelly says emotionally. “You’re back!”

They wrap their arms around each other, grinning. 

“Well, I only got your thirty-seven missed messages,” Margot says when she pulls back. She looks around at the bar with amazement. “Wow. I guess there really is no place like home, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kelly says softly. 

“Sorry I’ve been so out of touch,” Margot says with guilty eyes. 

Kelly shakes her head and touches her daughter’s shoulder with a smile. While Ethan places a hand on my shoulder blade.

“It’s okay. I’m just so glad you’re here. Come on.”

Mother pulls daughter over to the bartop, a short distance away from me. Margot looks at me, Ethan, and John then.

“Uh,” Roni starts, indicating us, “These are my friends, Lavinia, Ethan, and John. They’re in town for a little bit and helping out around the bar for room and board.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Margot says, eyeing the bottle I have in my hand. “Where are you guys from?”

“I’m from Kansas,” I reply, then point to the two men, “John’s from England, Ethan’s from New Mexico.”

“Wow, how did you guys meet?” she asks.

“Assignment. I work for an organization that kind of threw me together with them. They decided I was such a delight that they wanted to tag along to my next one.”

“Miss Lavinia jests,” John says, his tone tinged with affection in an effort to cover up my sarcasm. “But she truly is a wonderful person.”

“That’s really sweet,” Margot says with empathy. Roni and Kelly look slightly tense as Margot asks, “So, what do you guys do then?”

Ethan and John remain silent while going tense as well, looking at me questioningly.

“Security work,” I reply smoothly as I take another swig from the jug. “Contractually. Currently, I’m working with Detectives Weaver and Rogers. Ethan and John are working on research while also helping Roni and Kelly out at the bar.”

“Wait, so, you mean you’re like a contract bodyguard?” Margot asks brightly.

I laugh at the idea.

“Sort of,” I reply with a shrug. “There’s a lot more to it than that, but playing bodyguard is certainly part of the gig.”

“That’s amazing. I didn’t know that women did that kind of thing.”

“They don’t usually,” I reply thinking of the kind of security work she’s thinking of. “It’s a tough field for women to flourish in. But I’m strong and demanding. So…”

“Strong women are so amazing,” she tells me with fascination. Then something seems to dawn on her face. “Hey, I saw you earlier. When I met that girl, Tilly.”

“Yes,” I nod. “I was there to bring her back with me to the police station.”

“Is she in trouble?” Margot asks startled.

“Nope,” I shake my head with a smile and down more of the vodka. “She’s,” I exhale harshly away from the group, “been cleared.”

“There’s a killer running around the heights,” Kelly says tensely.

“And it seems that they were framing Tilly,” Roni informs her niece.

“But you proved she was innocent?” Margot asks me.

“Yep. Me, Detective Rogers, and Henry Mills.”

“Henry helped?” Roni asks, surprised and proud.

“Yeah,” I say then down more of the vodka. “And I want to say, well done.” 

I look at her meaningfully as I’m starting to feel that nice tingle that makes life a little easier sometimes. 

“Wow,” Margot says, seeing that the bottle is half empty now. “You can really hold your liquor.”

“My tolerance is high,” I reply with a wave of my hand. “And today was not… enjoyable.”

“I can understand that,” she says softly. Then to Roni and her mother she says, “I’m gonna go wash the airport out of my hair and then we can talk over hot toddies.”

“Sounds perfect,” Kelly tells her.

Margot nods and heads over to, then up the spiral staircase. Kelly looks back at Roni.

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be,” she confesses. “To look her in the eye and lie about who we really are.”

Roni picks up her glass and nods.

“Welcome to the club, sis.”

They clink glasses while Ethan and John take a seat on either side of me.

“What happened?” John asks as I chug more of the bottle.

“...Rogers kissed me and I…” I grit my teeth and scratch at the letters on the bottle in annoyance with myself. “...I had this flash of Dean. The scruff. The leather... I mean, the way he smells and some other things… It’s so similar to Dean. So… I kissed him back. A lot. Pretended it was… Then I kind of told him that he could sleep with me if he didn’t ask questions about why.”

“Whoa,” Roni says softly. “That’s kind of… rough.” I look at her dully which causes her to raise her hands up defensively. “Hey, you could do worse than Rogers. He’s a really great guy.”

“I don’t want  _ him _ ,” I reply with a tight voice. “I  _ want _ Dean. And I thought I’d kept myself busy enough to push that fact aside so I could move on.”

“That’s not moving on,” says Kelly knowingly. “That’s just not dealing with it.”

“...Yes,” I reply sorrowfully. “Thank you. And I shall go on doing that because there isn’t much else that I can do right now. I don’t have time to deal with it.”

John takes the hand I’ve laid on the bartop and gently squeezes it. His coolness causes me to take notice. Ethan stands and wraps his arm around my shoulders. His chin goes to the top of my head to rest there.

“Vinnie,” Ethan says softly, his voice still deep and rich. “You need sleep.”

I find myself inhaling sharply before I nod. He raises his head in time for me to tilt mine back with the bottle to my lips. Downing the rest of it in less than a minute, I put the bottle back on the bartop and stand.

“Yes,” I agree. My voice cracking and tears coming to my eyes again before I can ask, “Can I sleep in the middle?”

John smiles softly at me and nods before he pulls me up into his arms. 

“It will be alright, Miss Vinnie,” she says softly as he walks to the stairs. “You are not alone in your heartache.”

“I love you guys,” I sob softly into John’s shoulder. 

When I wake up the next morning, I realize that I’m holding onto John’s hands, sandwiched in between us; they’re pulled up under my chin. Ethan lays behind me, his right arm around my ribs, his left is under my neck. I lay there enjoying the warmth behind me for a while before I gently move out from Ethan’s arms, lay John’s hands closer to him, and kneel at their heads. I smile at them as I consider that they laid like that all night just to comfort my buzzed butt. I’m going to have to do something for them. While I figure out what it is, I bend and kiss each of them on the cheek. 

Getting up, I notice that Margot is sleeping on the couch before I start my usual morning routine with absolute silence. When I’m done, I check my communication device and decide that I’ll go down to the bar’s kitchen and make a big breakfast for everyone. I remember being in my twenties and deciding that the best way to thank people was with food. 

Once down there, I consider what I know about British breakfasts and start simmering beans, crisping bacon, and sausage, frying eggs, slicing tomatoes, and fried mushrooms to accompany all that along with toast. Lastly, I make a huge batch of buttermilk pancakes. After I arrange everything in a pleasantly aesthetic way, I place each platter on a serving tray with covers; then I take it all upstairs. Once up there, I place the tray on the kitchen table. Then I find a piece of paper and a pen to write a quick message:

Sorry if any of it has gotten too cold. 

I hope it all tastes good. I just wanted

to thank everyone for taking care of

me last night. Have a great day.

~Lavinia

I place this note on top of the covered platters and then head down the stairs once again to clean the pots and pans I used. After I’m done cleaning the kitchen, I head out for the police station. The morning air is chilly but pleasant. When I get to the station I find Detective Weaver gluing pieces of a broken teacup together. It’s a white cup with blue hand-painted designs on the edges. I hear footsteps and papers rustling behind me as I stand watching him work. Turning slightly, I look over my shoulder to see Rogers. He looks at me neutrally for a moment.

“Good morning,” he tells me softly.

“Good morning,” I reply with accommodation to his emotions.

Rogers looks past me to Weaver.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for an antique kind of guy,” he says. Weaver looks up as he attaches the piece with the handle to the main body. “Hey, do you want to order some food and maybe work the Candy-Killer case?”

“You’re not really calling it that, are you?” Weaver says, finally putting most of his attention on Rogers.

Rogers snorts a chuckle and smiles.

“Well, no, not me. The boys in the bullpen,” Rogers points.

Weaver nods and goes back to looking at his teacup.

“No, I think we need a break,” he says. “As my wife used to say, wandering another path often leads us where we need to go. Hence the teacup.”

“Well, in that case, I guess my path is leading me to the market,” Rogers says as he comes around me and sets the papers down on his desk. “Since Tilly moved in, I seem to have gone through a lot of jam.”

He looks at me and gives me a smile. I return it sincerely.

“Enjoy your time off,” Weaver says with a smile as well and continues to look the teacup over. 

Rogers looks at his partner then walks past me. I feel his hand on my shoulder briefly as he passes. I consider what to do and decide that for now I will take Rogers’ chair and sit. Watching Weaver reassemble his cup in silence, I wonder what’s going to happen next.

“You and Detective Rogers are getting close,” Weaver says softly as he applies glue to a fragment.

“Hmm,” is my reply.

“You convinced him to take in Tilly.”

“That was all his idea,” I reply with a wave of my hand. “He asked me what I thought, then he went and did it.”

Just about then, a scruffy, tired looking officer comes up to Weaver’s desk with a folder and some papers in it.

“Hey, Weaver,” he says tiredly. “Got a call about a thirteen-year-old girl wandering outside an abandoned restaurant. Fits the description of the girl you’re looking for.” The officer hands Weaver a photo. “What’s the deal with her anyway?”

Weaver, who has completely moved on from the teacup to focus on this picture, replies thoughtfully, “She’s just a scared girl, but also a piece of a much larger puzzle.”

The detective hands me the picture. I take it and see a black and white surveillance picture of Anastasia looking over her shoulder. 

“Where was this taken exactly?” I ask as I look up at the officer.

He gives me a raised eyebrow but says nothing. I roll my eyes and look at Weaver. He sighs and points at me.

“She’s with me,” he tells the man.

“The restaurant is over by Tuttle and forty-ninth,” he tells me, then turns and walks away.

“The time stamp on this picture says four-thirty p.m.,” I say as I hand it back to Weaver. “Could you look that area up and maybe with street cameras we can trace her steps?”

“Clever thinking,” Weaver tells me as he turns to his computer and gets to work.

When he finally finds Anastasia and tracks her movements through Hyperion Heights, we have an address; an abandoned apartment building that she seems to have gone into and then stayed put. Several hours have gone by looking at the footage. With the address written down, we go grab a bite to eat and make our way over. While we’re driving, eating burgers, Weaver asks me if Regina and Kelly had discovered anything.

“They found out that Facilier is awake,” I reply around a couple of fries. “And it would seem that he and Roni have a thing. This seems rather conflicting for her though.”

“Why’s that? Aside from him being a voodoo witch doctor, that is.”

“Because it seems that he wants to take your dagger for himself.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, astonished as he looks at me.

“Afraid so. She and Kelly are very concerned.”

“That would be a very bad thing,” Weaver growls as he looks back at the road. “Very bad.”

At that moment, his phone rings. Weaver looks at it for a moment and glares before he hits ignore.

“Telemarketer?” I ask with mild sarcasm.

“Regina.”

“And you don’t want to talk to her… why?”

“I think you can figure that out on your own,” he retorts bitingly.

“You’re pissy because she’s dating the guy that wants to kill you?” I hazard a guess. He doesn’t respond. “She’s not happy about his plans you know.”

“That’s not the point,” he says with finality. “If I can’t get rid of the dagger to a Guardian, I can never be with Belle again.”

Silence falls on the car then. Occasionally it gets interrupted by another ring of his phone. Eventually, he just puts it on vibrate and ignores it. Just as we are parking the car I get a text message on my communication device from John.

[Lavinia, Roni needs to know where you and Weaver are. It is very urgent.]

Using my lense, I send a reply silently and get out of the car to follow Weaver into the abandoned building. We check floor by floor with flashlights; what we find on the third floor, in one of the old apartments, is a smoking, scorched mess. The windows have been blown out, broken wood from what might have been a doorway or maybe furniture, I’m not sure, are scattered everywhere. 

“Looks like our little Guardian had a blowout,” I say softly as we look around.

I hear heels from the hallway coming closer and then Roni’s head pops in.

“Wow,” she says, looking around. “So, that little girl’s magic did all this.”

Weaver barely looks over his shoulder at her before he glances at me. I shrug and keep looking around with my flashlight.

“You know, you’d think ignoring someone’s phone calls would be a big enough hint that you didn’t want to chat,” Weaver growls at her.

Roni sighs before she retorts, “I wasn’t inviting you over for tea. Ivy was attacked by the killer. And while I was filling your voicemail, my bar-back saw her leave with someone.”

Weaver looks at Roni then.

“Uh… with Gothel?” he asks. Roni looks down at the floor. “Or do you mean your, uh clandestine boyfriend?” Roni looks at him rather shocked. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, it’s my business to collect secrets.” 

Now she looks at me and presses her lips into a tense straight line.

“Listen,” I tell her, holding my hands up in defense, “I don’t do secrets to begin with. Not that I knew this was supposed to be one. But don’t you think it’s rather pertinent information?”

“Yes,” Weaver agrees, staring Roni down. “And the real question is,  _ when _ were you going to tell me about this desire for my dagger?”

Roni looks down and nods.

“I was hoping I could change his mind,” she says softly. “Like Belle did for you.”

“Well, he clearly hasn’t changed his mind,” Weaver says with exasperation. “And if Facilier succeeds, I might never get back to Belle. If he gets his hands on Anastasia…”

“I know what terrible things he can do with that magic,” she tells Weaver urgently. “It’s why I’ve come to you.”

“Yeah…” Weaver says skeptically as he turns away slightly and looks around.

“So, what do we do now?” Roni asks tentatively.

“Quite simply? We have to get to Anastasia before Ivy does,” he tells her. 

“How exactly do we do that?” I ask.

“I’ll call Ivy,” Roni says. “Maybe she’ll answer.”

I nod and we wait while the line rings and goes to voicemail.

“Well, that was helpful,” I say softly to myself. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t as helpful as you obviously have been,” Roni says to me sarcastically. “Did you also tell him about you and Hook?”

“Who?” I ask confused. “Oh! You mean Rogers. I forgot that’s who he is…”

“Don’t change the subject, did you bother to tell him everything that happened last night or just the things about me?” 

I tilt my head curiously as I look at Roni.

“You’ve got a vindictive streak, huh?” I ask, impressed. “No, I didn’t bother to tell him. Would you like to inform Weaver that Rogers and I kissed and then I had a flashback and asked him to sleep with me? Or that I went and downed two bottles of flavored vodka after we decided not to? See, I don’t do shame or guilt. So, don’t try to press my buttons that way. And as Weaver is my charge, I’m going to give him the information I feel he needs to have. As for the fact that you and Facilier are together, I told him when I informed him that because of this you were very upset about the situation. Are you done being grumpy with me now?”

Roni looks down at her feet for a moment, shifting back and forth. Then she looks back up at me with an apologetic face.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I just wasn’t ready for him to know yet. Of course, he should know about what’s going on. And I’m sorry about outing you and Rogers. I know you say you don’t care, but I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” I tell her truthfully. “But it seems that I hurt yours. That I am very sorry for. Please forgive me for that, Roni.”

She smiles and nods at me just as her phone rings. Pulling it out of her pocket, Roni looks at it. Her eyes go wide then she quickly answers.

“Ivy!” Roni says into the microphone. “Where are… What?! How… Okay… Yeah, of course. I’ve got Weaver and Lavinia with me now. We’re on our way. Stay put.”

Roni hangs up and looks at Weaver and me.

“Ivy has Anastasia with her,” she tells us. “They are at Belfrey Towers. Something's happened with Gothel. We need to get over there right away.”

“Let’s go,” Weaver says quickly as he makes his way to his car.

Roni and I follow quickly down the flights of stairs and out into the early evening of Hyperion Heights. The sun has set by the time we get to the tall high rise where Victoria Belfrey’s company is located. We take the elevator up to a rather stylish looking waiting room that has been littered with papers, bags, and various other things I don’t bother to note. There are a set of double doors open not far off. The room beyond looks like a small hurricane played around inside. It was obviously an office. I say  _ was _ , because the furniture has been destroyed. The only thing that isn’t upside down or smashed is a big, heavy desk at the far end of the room and a couch that is built into the wall. This is where Ivy and Anastasia sit, holding each other in tears.

“What the hell happened here?” Roni asks with a gasp.

As we get closer, on the other side of a turned over table we see strings of bones and beads. Feathers, more bones, possibly teeth, a turtle’s shell, several wooden bowls; things I’ve seen used for voodoo magic. Weaver comes around and eyes the objects.

“You’re good hearted boyfriend,” he tells Roni with a sarcastic smile.

Roni looks at him apologetically before she looks over at the girls.

“You okay?” she asks them. Ivy nods slightly with disappointment. “Couldn’t have just stayed at that table?” 

Ivy squeezes her sister’s shoulder’s before she stands, wiping her face and walking over to Roni. Weaver nods his head to Anastasia as he looks at me. We walk over and take a seat on either side of her.

“I know. I know,” says Ivy to Roni. “You were right.”

Roni looks at the little girl in between Weaver and I as she puts her hands into her pockets.

“Well, I would have left, too,” she confesses to Ivy.

“How are you feeling,” I ask Anastasia softly. She looks at me as Weaver tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The girl’s eyebrows go together in a mixture of emotions, her arms go around her torso, and she shakes her head. “That’s alright,” I tell the girl as I wrap my arms around her. Anastasia leans her head onto my shoulder and exhales sharply. “It’s okay to not know right now. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s right,” Weaver tells her. “You’re safe now.”

“All those lessons about family and love,” Ivy tells Roni with an odd tone to her voice. I look at them, finally listening to their conversation. “I thought they would weaken my magic. But, that’s where the strongest magic comes from.”

Ivy looks at Anastasia now, wrapped up in my arms. I pull back slightly as Weaver and I look at the young girl too. She’s no longer quivering as she looks at her sister.

“Uh, it’s… It sounds like you’re saying goodbye,” Roni says confused.

Ivy looks at Roni apologetically.

“I know I’m leaving behind a big mess,” Ivy tells Roni. “And I cast the curse. And you’re probably angry with me...”

“Angry?” Roni says with a soft hiss. “You tried to kill my son. Angry is quite the understatement.” Ivy looks down sadly. Roni nods and goes on, “But I also know that you didn’t do this alone. Gothel manipulated you. And if Gothel’s after your sister, the sooner she’s safe and out of reach, the better it is for all of us. So…” Roni sighs as she looks at the girl next to me. “Go. We’re gonna be okay. Trust me. We’ve broken curses before. We won’t stop fighting until we break this one.”

“...So, um… do you forgive me?” Ivy asks with glassy eyes and a choked voice.

Roni chuckles in slight disbelief before she ‘hmms’ to herself.

“Let’s just say I understand you,” Roni confesses. Ivy looks like she’s going to sadly take what she can get. “My gift to you… is what I always wanted. Someone to believe I can change.”

Ivy’s tears spill down at that and she nods.

“Thank you,” Ivy whispers. “I don’t even know what I’m going to say to Jacinda.”

Weaver taps my arm, motions to them with his head, and we pull Anastasia up to stand together.

“Well, don’t worry,” Weaver says as we come closer. “When the time is right. We’ll tell her everything.”

Roni nods in agreement to this before Anastasia walks over to her sister alone.

“Drizzy, were you honest before?” she asks her sister. “Can that bean really bring us back?”

Ivy pulls a clear kidney-shaped bean out of her pocket and looks at it.

“I was told yes, but I don’t know how to do it,” she replies.

Anastasia seems to be happy with her sister’s answer.

“I think I do,” the girl says with a soft smile. “Take my hands.”

Ivy places the bean in her sister’s hands then puts hers over them. There’s a sigh from Anastasia before the hand with the bean in it starts to glow with white light. Ivy looks down at her hands and chuckles. When they release each other the bean is glowing with a twinkling magical light. Taking it into her fingers, Ivy looks at us with a smile before she turns back and tosses it onto the ground. It bounces twice before a swirling circular ring pops up, fizzing and zipping with light and sound. It’s created a magical doorway. Anastasia looks at her sister and offers her hand. Ivy takes it with a smile.

“You were right, Ana. When we’re together, we’ll always find a way home,” she tells her sister, obviously referencing something I’m not privy to.

They give us a brief glance before they walk through the spinning ring. They vanish and then so does the doorway. 

_ What? They are gone without any fuss? No one argues this or has Anasatia take the dagger? _

“Alright,” I say looking at Weaver. “Why did you not hand over your dagger?” 

He shakes his head at me.

“It was the right thing to do, letting them go,” he replies with certainty.

“So, you’re giving up on getting to Belle?” Roni asks him.

“It might seem that way,” Weaver nods softly. “But you know, every time I do good… it just brings me closer to her. Now I’ve got to believe that another Guardian will appear. But those two sisters going off together… Well, that means today is a good day for everyone.”

Roni smiles at him with pride.

“Hold the phone,” I say with mild annoyance. They look at me shocked. “I don’t mean to be the one to bring the rain to the parade,  _ but _ I don’t give a flip about their sisterly bond. My job is to make sure that you achieve your goal. And by letting the Guardian go you’ve just jacked shit up and made it harder. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Roni insists as if this is supposed to make everything better.

“I’m sorry,” I say waving my hand at her in annoyance, “does it look like I care?”

“Heroes have to do what is right, no matter what,” Weaver tells me. “And I have to believe that my love for Belle will surpass this separation between us until I can get to her again. It’s part of the prophecy for the Dark One. I need to be a hero for her.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet,” I say looking at him and clasping my hands together at my breast dramatically. Then I drop my hands and get serious. “But I am not a hero. I’m very much an anti-hero. And anti-heroes get the job done, no matter what. Now, if I have to cut the head off that bitch, Gothel, on the six o’clock news, before God and country, to get you to Belle, I will do it. If I have to sacrifice the lives of your friends and family, I will do it.”

They look at me horrified.

“You can’t be serious,” Roni says in a whisper.

“You ever wonder why Deadpool and the Punisher are so popular?” I ask darkly. “It’s not because of their outfits or their weapons. It’s because they find a goal and they make sure it happens, no matter what. While I don’t care about being popular, I do care about getting my mission completed. If you guys screw up any more opportunities, I will start making your lives very miserable.”

“If you’re threatening to harm innocent people,” Weaver informs me. “I will take you to the station and book you.”

“Your threats mean literally nothing to me,” I inform him, matter of factly. “I am stronger and faster than any of the police officers who might try to take me in. It would mean nothing to me to snap their necks if they try to get in my way. The real question you need to ask yourself right now is this: Do you really want to push me to homicide when all you have to do is not fuck up again? Now take us back to the bar, please.”

I start to walk toward the lobby when I hear Roni ask, “Does the woman who made such a huge breakfast to show her appreciation this morning, really have so much darkness in her heart?”

I look over my shoulder at her.

“When you can’t really die and you are a slave, you don’t really get to measure yourself by how light or dark your heart is. Slaves don’t get that luxury.” 

“And what about that man you were in love with, Dean, was it?” Roni asks, coming closer. “What would he think of this?”

A bolt of pain shoots through my body at the mention of his name. I blink a couple of times and look down. 

“He knew everything,” I reply softly. “And he understood. He felt much the same way I do. There is no black and white when you have no freedom. There is only the job.”

There is stunned silence behind me. Not looking back, I walk to the elevator and take it to the ground floor, alone. I’ll wait for them in the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.


	7. Chapter 7

“I just don’t understand why you have to be a slave,” Roni says as we walk from the police station.

Weaver wouldn’t take us to the bar. He was mad at me and told me we could walk. I shrugged and moved on.

“What is so hard to understand about this?” I ask her incredulously. “There is literally nowhere I could run that they could not find me. The only difference between them and God is that He loves me and they hate me.”

“There has to…” she starts as I pull open the door to the bar.

“Roni, drop it. You can’t turn me into a hero. And while I get your point of view and I encourage you to keep it, don’t be surprised when I won’t let it get in my way again.”

She sighs and looks around as we come in. Then a gasp escapes her. I look over to where she’s fixed her gaze. A dark skinned, bald man with a really lovely suit is sitting by the window. He seems to be waiting for Roni as he smiles and stands when she comes in. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks irritably. “Hmm? Gonna prey on some more of my customers?”

“Is this Facilier?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.

Roni nods. He looks at me and gives me a grand smile. Taking my hand in his, he brings it to his lips.

“Enchante,” he tells me in French. “You must be Lavinia, the Traveler.”

“Let go of my hand before you lose yours,” I growl. “Va te faire cuire le cul.”

He looks at me shocked for a moment before his eyes narrow in a glare. Letting go of my hand gently he leans his head back and examines me.

“You speak French,” he says softly.

“I speak a lot of languages.”

“What did you say?” Roni asks me.

“A wonderful French insult,” I tell her as I continue to glare at him.

Facilier gives me one last look before he turns his gaze to Roni, now ignoring me altogether.

“I did what I had to, to get what I wanted,” he tells her in an offhand way. “Just as I told you I would.”

“And you’re still no closer to your precious Dark One dagger,” Roni replies sarcastically.

“Well, it wasn’t the dagger I was after tonight,” he tells her with a smile. He starts to pull something out of his pocket, “Just a little bit of this.”

What he holds up is a vial of dark sand. This makes Roni laugh bitterly.

“So, you just stole magic and ran away?” she accuses in disbelief.

He laughs at this as he puts it into a black pouch.

“I left those girls so they could find each other,” he tells her. “Just as the cards told me they would.”

Roni scoffs and starts to walk toward the bar. 

“You expect me to believe that?” she asks over her shoulder.

Facilier reaches out to grab Roni’s arm gently. Then he turns her around to look at him.

“Weaver’s got you thinking something awful about me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s usually right,” she tells him apathetically.

“Not about this.” Roni sighs in exasperation at his words. “Look, Anastasia was never going to die. I just needed to siphon some of her magic when she was going to use her power.”

“And now that you have it, how do you plan on using it?”

“As a gift,” he tells her simply. “As I’d always intended.” He places the black pouch into Roni’s hands. “Go find a way to save your son.”

Roni looks at him, her mouth open, her eyes getting glassy. As it hadn’t been a big deal to my mission, I had all but forgotten about Drizella having poisoned Henry’s heart. That was the reason why she hadn’t been looking for a way to break the curse. 

“...Can I really trust this doesn’t come with a price?” she asks in a whisper.

“The only price to pay is seeing that smile,” he tells her as he touches her hair.

Roni exhales sharply, ready to cry. Facilier smiles at her then turns to me.

“See, I’m a rather good guy.” 

“I don’t care if you’re in line to be Pope,” I inform him. “She isn’t the one I’m taking care of.”

“Ah, Weaver is, then?” he asks me as I look at him dully. He smiles at me again, thinking he’s got me figured out. “Well, I hope that you have a good evening,” he tells me.

With one last touch to Roni’s cheek, he bids us farewell and walks out the door.

“He really can be so kind,” Roni muses with a smile as she looks at the pouch in her hand. 

I roll my eyes and walk to the kitchen to find my friends. After informing them about the day and how the sisters left for their realm, Ethan sighs and rubs at his face in irritation.

“So, we’re back to the beginning,” he says.

“It is nice that they were able to go home,” John says thoughtfully. “But terribly unfortunate that Detective Weaver is still no closer to accomplishing his goal.”

“Well,” I mutter, “it means that my feeling that he, Detective Rogers, and Tilly are connected in this mission are accurate, though their endgames are obviously very different from each other.”

“This seems a lot more complicated than the other ones,” Ethan tells me.

“Yes,” I nod. “It’s one of the more difficult stories I’ve had to deal with. Well, now that Roni has that magic dust, it’s looking like she can fix Henry’s poisoned heart. Perhaps after that, he can break the curse. Maybe that will allow us more opportunities to get things rolling. Help her where you can and keep your ears open about Facilier. I don’t trust him. But do  _ not _ engage him. I can handle whatever voodoo shit he can throw at me, you two probably can’t. Well… maybe John.”

“Miss Lavinia, I am hurt,” Ethan says with a sly smile.

“Poor Ethan,” I say with a fake, though playful pout. Pulling him into a hug I add, “I’m going to bed. While Weaver is not happy with me tonight, I imagine he has plans for tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, Miss Lavinia,” John says.

With a pat on his arm after I let go of Ethan, I walk to the apartment. After making our pallets, and placing myself in the middle of them again, I go to sleep. 

The next day I get a call from Rogers at seven in the morning to meet him and Weaver at the station. As I’m already up, it’s hardly any trouble to get to them quickly. When I arrive and walk over to their desks, I realize I’ve stepped into a rather odd conversation.

“...All I’m saying is, just remember that she’s going to be leaving once we get the bigger case solved,” says Weaver. “Don’t get attached.”

“And all I’m saying is since when did my love life become your business?” Rogers asks.

I step into their view just then and Rogers goes quiet, looking away. 

“Ah, Miss Traveler,” Weaver says, leaning back in his chair and looking at me. “Glad you could join us. We were just talking about you.”

“I’m sure you were,” I reply suspiciously. “It’s funny how old men, like old women, develop a habit of trying to play with other people’s lives like a child plays with dolls.”

“I assume you’re speaking from experience?” Weaver says pointedly.

I smile at him, my eyes narrowing. Turning my attention completely to Rogers, I ignore Weaver’s existence for a moment.

“Where are we going today?” I ask.

“Ivy Belfrey was attacked last night in the parking garage of Belfrey Towers,” he tells me. 

“I heard,” I reply, thinking over yesterday’s events. “Are we going there to look for evidence?” 

“Yes,” he replies with a nod. “So, let’s get going. I’m going to take my car there. Got some business after we’re done.”

I nod and follow him as he gets up from his chair to head for the parking lot. Weaver comes up beside me as we walk.

“Ran into Facilier last night,” he tells me in a low voice. “Seems he also chatted with you.”

“...Yes,” I reply through gritted teeth.

“Now, that’s one person I wouldn’t mind you taking care of,” he whispers.

I look at him with annoyance.

“You don’t get to cherry-pick what I do and don’t do,” I tell him. “I’m not  _ your _ servant. I will do what I feel needs to be done and when I choose. The only way your preferences factor into the equation is when they have to do with the job.”

“It kind of does, doesn’t it?” he asks slyly. “I mean, in order to get the dagger, he’s got to kill me with it. If I die, you don’t get to complete your mission.”

I laugh at this and stop him just outside of the police station, my hand on his chest.

“First of all, that’s a terrible way to encourage me to do what you want simply because as long as he doesn’t actually do that, I won’t care about him. Second, what is life to this body of yours, but a way to keep meat fresh? It wouldn’t be hard for me to bring you back to life and it certainly won’t be my first time doing something like that. Now, quit trying to one-up me and get in the damn car.”

Rogers looks at us with curiosity as we get to the parking lot. I choose to ride with Weaver who remains silent while he drives. Once we arrive at the building we go directly to the parking garage. Looking all over for any signs of the killer. The place smells like rubber, automotive oil, and exhaust. If there were some scent lingering from this killer, it’s been covered up. We spend about twenty minutes looking around in the stairwell and outside of it in the garage.

“Four crime scenes, not a single footprint or one strand of hair,” says Rogers with furrowed brows.

“Well, the killer’s certainly meticulous,” Weaver agrees with his arms crossed. “I’ll give him that. I’m surprised Ivy made it out of here alive.”

“So, she left town for good, huh?” Rogers asks, referencing what Weaver must have told him previously. “Smart girl.”

“Yeah and really lucky,” I mutter as I look around on the ground.

“The next victim may not be,” Weaver adds.

“Well, whatever cracks this case open, I don’t think we’re gonna find it here,” Rogers says with a sigh. He turns and starts to walk back to the car. “Anyway, I have to get Tilly to work.”

“Since when did Tilly have a job?” Weaver asks, surprised.

“Since she’s eaten everything in my fridge.” I laugh with unexpected merriment at this and Rogers stops to look at me brightly. “Do you have any idea how expensive organic marmalade is?” I laugh again which makes him smile. “Well, it’s criminal, so I got her a gig.” Weaver smiles at this and nods. “Today is her first day. So, we’ll see how that goes.”

“You don’t sound too confident,” Weaver says.

“Of course I’m not. Tilly hasn’t worked a real job in her life. I just feel like I need to help her. Like I’m responsible… It’s hard to explain.”

Weaver looks at me out of the corner of his eye for a moment. His expression changes and suddenly he looks a little less grumpy with me. 

Looking back to Rogers he says, “You don’t have to explain. Tilly’s a special girl, and I think she’s gonna surprise you.”

Weaver taps Rogers’ arm and smiles warmly.

“Yeah, alright,” Rogers says with a smile. Then he looks at me, “Would you like to come with me? I think Tilly would appreciate the support.”

“I do adore that girl,” I concede with a smile. “I’d love to.”

Rogers offers me his arm, which I take and we start walking. I hear Weaver clear his throat, neither one of us bothers to look back at him. Getting into his car we take off for his apartment. 

“Tilly seems much happier since she moved in,” Rogers tells me as he turns a corner. 

“Good,” I reply with a smile. “You seem happier too.”

“Do I?” he asks with a smile at me. “I guess so. It’s funny, but I can’t figure out why.”

“Who knows,” I reply with a shrug. “Maybe because you’re taking care of someone who needs help. When we take care of others we end up feeling better about ourselves and more content.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Rogers smiles again. There’s a moment of silence before he clears his throat and speaks hesitantly. “...Weaver seems to think I should keep my distance from you. Emotionally.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” I tell him simply.

He takes his eyes off the road to look at me. 

“Is that what you want?” 

I laugh bitterly.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” I confess, pretending to look after a poodle we pass. “It’s more a matter of self-preservation for you. Be smart and don’t get attached.”

The car fills with silence as we both look out the front window. The street is busy with traffic and bicyclists. Pedestrians walk along the sidewalk in front of shop fronts and mom and pop grocery stores. When we arrive at his apartment, Rogers parks the car and I move to the back seat. When he comes back Tilly gets into the front.

“Hey there, Lavinia,” she tells me with a grin. “Are you coming to see me off on my first day?”

“I sure am,” I reply with a smile. “I’m excited to see you getting up on your feet.”

Tilly starts to tell me about how she’s eaten better in the two days of living with Rogers than she has in her whole life. Rogers pulls back out onto the road and drives. 

It takes him a bit to find a parking spot. When he does we get out and walk a short distance past several businesses. I have no idea where we’re going and so am simply letting them lead. Tilly’s rather excited face suddenly starts to go gloomy.

“Don’t be nervous,” Rogers tells her. “You’re going to love this job.”

“But I am nervous,” she tells him as the wind pushes our hair all over the place. “I can’t just not be.”

“Well, then, don’t act so nervous,” Rogers insists to her. She looks at her fingers and then starts to chew on her nails. “And stop chewing your nails!”

“Urr!” she growls, flinging her head back in annoyance. “You’re being very imperious today. Maybe you’re the nervous one.”

I laugh at their exchange and nod.

“He is, sweetie,” I tell her in a not so quiet whisper. “Don’t let him fool you.”

He glances at me, then back to the sidewalk.

“I had to pull in a big favor to get this job since I happen to know you have a taste for this type of thing,” he tells Tilly.

We step past the corner of a building to an open courtyard with a yellow food truck parked there. Rollin’ Bayou is written on the side and on several boards out front of the order window. Sabine, the pretty lady who is Jacinda’s friend, is at the window giving a bag of food to a waiting customer. She looks up and sees us.

“Hey!” she calls cheerfully. “There’s my little protege.”

Tilly looks at Rogers and me nervously. We just give her encouraging smiles. Sabine comes out of the food truck with a smile and extends her hand to Tilly.

“Hi,” she says brightly to the blonde girl. “You must be Tilly and you guys brought Lavinia. I haven’t seen you since Roni brought you over.” 

I smile and wave.

“I know,” I tell her with an apologetic smile. “It’s been a hot minute. How have things been?”

“Going good,” she tells me, returning the smile. “Getting a business up and running has its ups and downs but I love it.”

“That’s good. Not everyone is cut out for that kind of thing. You are obviously not one of them.”

“Thank you!” she grins. Then to Tilly, she says, “Rogers tells me you’re a big fan of my work. Our other guy, Drew, he works the even days. You can work odd.”

Tilly grins at this idea.

“Well, I like odd things, so that’s good,” Tilly tells her with a laugh. “Thank you.”

“Happy to help out my favorite detective,” Sabine tells her as she touches Rogers’ arm. “And it just so happens that I have his favorite order already.”

She smiles slyly as she hands the smiling Rogers a white bag.

“Well, if that’s how this works,” he tells Sabine. “I’ll have to drop her off more often.”

“You might,” Sabine grins. “Because I have a feeling she’s going to do great. Come on. Let’s go.”

Sabine and Tilly laugh as the woman takes the girl by the arm and pulls her to the food truck. All nervousness is gone from Tilly as they laugh and chat. She waves back at us before she climbs up and in. Rogers looks at her sweetly with a smile. I watch him and notice a warm fuzzy feeling in my chest.

“It’s kind of like watching your kid go off to their first day of school, isn’t it,” I say softly.

Rogers looks at me and blinks in surprise.

“Do you have children?”

“I did. A daughter,” I nod, looking around at the courtyard.

“...Did?” he says softly.

“She’s gone,” I look up at him again. “Her and my husband.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he tells me sincerely.

I shake my head.

“It was a long time ago.” Jutting my chin at the bag in his hand, I ask, “What’s your usual order?”

He hesitates as he looks at me, then opens the bag.

“Take one,” he tells me. “Sabine makes the best beignets outside of Louisiana.”

I smile at this and do as I’m told.

“You ever been to Louisiana?” I ask him as I bite into it. “Oh! That is beautiful!”

I close my eyes and am taken back to when I was a child. Sitting on the island in my grandma’s kitchen while she rolled out her dough and made these very same delights. She was from Louisiana. My eyes open when I hear a chuckle. Rogers is looking at me with a grin.

“You looked like you were having a moment,” he says, still smiling.

I laugh and nod.

“Yeah, I’m afraid I was. This tastes like my grandma’s cooking, she was from the bayou too.”

“Oh! You know cajun cooking?” Rogers brightens at this revelation.

I nod as he pushes his hand into the bag and pulls a beignet out and puts it to his mouth with his bare hand. Indicating for us to start walking, we continue to munch.

“I do,” I reply to his question. “Grandma made gumbo out of everything. That’s how I first had squirrel meat.”

“Squirrel?” he asks with an astonished laugh.

“Sounds crazy, but it’s actually pretty tasty meat.”

“You are a surprising woman,” he tells me as we walk.

Rogers’ phone goes off at that moment and he looks at it. Tapping the answer button, he puts it to his ear.

“Weaver… Yes, we just dropped Tilly off… Well, I was planning on getting lunch and then heading back… You did?... Of course, yeah. We’ll come over to the station soon… Alright.”

He hangs up and looks at me just as we get to his car.

“Weaver found a book at the last crime scene after we left,” Rogers says as we get in. “There’s all kinds of stuff written on each page and it looks like it was the killer’s.”

“Whoa!” I say with an exhale. “That’s a big break! Maybe when Ivy fought back he lost it.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Interestingly enough, the book is the one that Henry wrote,” Rogers informs me.

_ That’s doubtfully a coincidence… Someone else must be awake and trying to get back at the witches that came over in the curse. _

“Well, we should get back,” I tell him.

“We’ve got some time,” Rogers informs me nonchalantly. “Weaver has Henry looking over the book since he knows his own work the best. Hopefully, he can figure out who this guy is or how to identify him.”

“Smart man,” I say softly. “Alright, so?”

“So, lunch?” he asks hopefully.

“Uh… well,” I say as I click my sharp canines together in thought. “If you like, sure…”

“How do you feel about Greek?” he asks renewed vigor in his voice and demeanor.

“Love the food, love the people.”

He grins and starts the car. As we drive he looks at me as I chew absently on my bottom lip.

“Can I just ask,” he says hesitantly, looking from the road to me a couple of times, “Are those implants?”

“Hmm?” I ask. He points to his canines. “Oh, it’s, um… genetic. Sorry, did I bite you the other day?”

“Oh, uh, no. No, it was,” Rogers coughs, his cheeks go red. “It was very enjoyable. I just noticed them, particularly when you smile.” He adds quickly, “It’s a lovely smile.”

I laugh embarrassedly.

“You are so funny. Were you worried I was self-conscious about them?”

“...I don’t know,” he says with his ears going a little pink. “I suppose I was a little.”

“You’re sweet.”

This makes him smile regardless of how pink his ears are. After a short ride, we arrive at a little Greek restaurant. The vegetarian moussaka and house Greek salad are amazing. We enjoy laughing and talking over the food. After we are finished Rogers suggests we walk to a little coffee shop nearby and get something warm to drink. He orders a coffee and I order a hot mint tea. As we meander back to the car, the wind kicks up, playing with my curls.

“Are you trying to sneak this into a lunch date?” I ask looking at him through my hair. 

His lips part and his steps falter slightly.

“...No… Well, I-I mean it doesn’t have to be…” he stutters.

“Let me ask you another question,” I say softly. He looks at me with big eyes. “Why in the world would you want to date someone like me who is not permanent and is very much broken. I mean, the ruins in Rome are less broken than me.”

“I’d rather have something wonderful... for a short time than miss out on it.” Rogers exhales hard then adds, “I’m tired of missing out. And I think… you're beautiful, even broken.” This makes me stop walking. My eyes close as I listen to him go on, “I mean the ruins in Rome attract the attention of everyone around the world with their beauty.”

I smile and shake my head.

“Damn,” I say softly and open my eyes. “That was smooth... Alright, give me your arm.”

Rogers smiles grandly and extends his arm out to me. I take it as I press closer to absorb some of his heat. We walk back to his car, nothing more being said as we do. When we get in, Rogers turns the car on and heads over to the police station. After parking, I unbuckle my seatbelt and start to get out before I feel Rogers’ warm hand on my shoulder.

“Lavinia, even though it wasn’t originally supposed to be a date,” he says when I look back at him. “Thank you for letting me think of it as one.”

I look at his puppy eyes and scruffy face. He’s worried, lonely, yet hopeful. There isn’t any way I can promise him that he can get what he wants from me. Let alone that it will be all for him and not because of the memory of someone I just lost. I nod once.

“We need to get inside,” I remind him.

He nods and gives me a half-smile. When we find that Henry and Weaver aren’t at the desks we head to Weaver’s locker. Rogers puts the code into the keypad next to the door, it buzzes, and we walk in. Weaver is sitting at a desk doing paperwork while Henry sits at the table in the middle of the room looking over the book. The older detective turns to see us, then goes back to his paperwork.

“How’s our newest detective doing?” Rogers asks as we come to stand next to Weaver.

“Time will tell,” Weaver replies. “Took you two long enough to get here. Glad you didn’t miss anything…”

“We had a delicious lunch, thanks for asking,” I reply with a catty smile. 

“Hey, hey!” Henry says turning and waving his hand at us. “I think I got something. Look.” We gather around him. “Okay, in most of the chapters, it seems like they’re studying the book, but in this one chapter, they corrected it. This is my version of the Hansel and Gretel story, but look what the killer wrote on it. ‘No happily ever after!’ ‘Remember Gretel.’ ‘Ovens make the deepest burns,’ which, you know, that’s pretty disturbing… Um, oh, look, also they underlined ‘twins.’”

“Wait, so the killer thinks that he’s living in the Hansel and Gretel story?” Rogers asks.

Henry nods as he puts his index finger up.

“And in their version, Gretel died,” Henry tells us. “So, in our killer’s mind, he’s Hansel avenging his sister’s death. Also, he’s obsessed with scars, so maybe there was a fire or something in real life.”

“Nice work,” Rogers tells him. “We can take a look at people with existing records, find the ones with sisters, especially twins, and cross-reference scars. I’ll get started. When we find our killer,” he tells Henry pointedly, “you’re gonna have one hell of a story to tell.” 

Rogers nods to us and heads out of the locker. Weaver smiles as he watches Rogers leave.

“So, I suppose it’s,” Weaver sighs, “finally time for you to catch your flight.”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry says as if he’s just been snapped out of a good dream. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait,” I say looking at him. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, there’s a company up in New York City that wants to interview me. They want me to write for them,” Henry tells me.

“So, you’re chill with leaving Jacinda and Lucy for a town that smells like urine on a good day?” I ask.

“Well, I’d like to get paid doing what I actually love to do,” he says as he starts to gather up his things.

“Huh…” I say looking at him stoney-faced.

He looks back at me, his resolve faltering.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s your life,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m just wondering why a person wouldn’t make the decisions that would allow them to never feel regret.”

“What makes you think I’ll feel regret?” Henry says leaning toward me.

“I didn’t say you would. May I see the book now that you’re done with it?”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Henry replies softly as he hands it over, looking at me quizzically. I take it and start to flip through pages. “I guess I should… uh, get going.”

“You don’t seem so sure,” Weaver says coyly.

“Yeah, I am,” Henry says as he looks at me for a moment. “It’s a great opportunity.”

“Now you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Weaver says with a smirk. “Doesn’t he?”

I nod.

“What do you care? I already helped you, okay? We’re done.”

“We are,” Weaver replies with a smile. Walking over to the door, he goes on, “But, as I said before, Henry Mills was my favorite character in the book. He always knew the right path. And I’d just hate to think his namesake would choose the wrong path.” When Weaver gets to the door he opens it. “Enjoy New York.”

Henry doesn’t respond verbally and I choose to keep my back to them. Eventually, I hear Henry walk out of the room and the door shut. 

“Thank you for saying what you did,” Weaver says to me. “He’ll think about it all the way to the airport.”

“Five dollars, I don’t have, says he doesn’t get on the plane,” I say with a smile.

“Oh… I wouldn’t take that bet,” he tells me, a smile in his voice. “Neither of us would make any money because we’d be betting on the same horse.”

“Gosh, how nice it is to have someone as smart as me in the same room,” I tell him with a smile as I turn to look at him. 

Weaver sits down at the table a short distance from me. I examine the hasty, red penned writing in the empty spaces around the text of each page. Reading over the back I realize that this book is the story, in detail, of the people from Roni and Weaver’s world; it’s their story. 

“This person was really having a rough time dealing with all this,” I say as I indicate the scribbles in the book, then the general space around us. “Being stuck in Seattle because of the curse must have been hard to handle when they woke up.”

“It must have been quite jarring,” Weaver agrees. “But now they’ve got revenge on their mind and in a land without magic, they can make it happen.”

“Until they're caught. There aren’t many folks in a world like this that can murder long term and keep getting away with it. That takes years and years of training. Unless you got someone footing the bills for good lawyers and crooked judges.”

“That it does,” Weaver replies. We go quiet for a bit then he speaks up again, “Listen, I know you’re going to do what you want, you’ve said as much to me several times. But I’m gonna ask you to be careful with Rogers. When this is all over, if he’s in love with you, it’s gonna hurt him badly when you go.”

“I am fully aware of that,” I tell him softly. “I told him as much when we went out to lunch and he tried to turn it into a date. However, it seems that he has a desire to plow on anyway. ...All he’s asking for is a shot from me.” I sigh and push some of my curls behind my ear. Then I add, “And I can’t give him what he wants, but what I could give, wouldn’t be for him.”

“I don’t know that he’d really care,” Weaver confesses to me. “That man has had a terrible life, I know because I, as the villainous Dark One, made sure most of it was. The only bright spot that he had left was his daughter and now he doesn’t even remember who she is.”

“Wow, that man is batting a thousand for heartache, huh?” I ask as I shake my head.

“Yes,” Weaver nods.

“Do you actually care about him, or is it more about Tilly?” 

Weaver seems to take a moment to consider this.

“Mostly Tilly,” he confesses. “But Rogers is a good man and worth some care too.”

“Hmm,” is all I say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.


	8. Chapter 8

When I get back to the bar I find a rather nasty present outside the front door addressed to Kelly. It’s a heart shaped box with chocolate marzipan truffles. When I come in, I find Kelly behind the bar, handing out drinks.

“Kelly,” I call to her, she looks at me. “We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy,” she tells me as she points to the customers.

I show her the box and give her a meaningful look. The corners of her mouth drop into a frown.

“I think you need to make some time.”

She grabs Margot off the floor and sticks her behind the bar. Taking my arm, Kelly rushes us back to the stockroom. There’s a huge pot of what looks like vegetable soup brewing over a small open flame.

“What is that?” I ask curiously. “And why is it in here?”

“Lucy, John, and I are working on a potion for Henry so we can break this curse,” she tells me tensely. “Roni’s out looking for a special kind of moss… Why is this happening to me?”

She grabs up the box and looks it over. Opening it she examines the chocolates. I take one and toss it into my mouth. Her eyes go wide as she shrieks.

“What is wrong with you?! That could be poisoned,” she shouts at me.

“That’s totally not this guy's M.O. and if it is poisoned, we’ll know because I’ll feel its effects.”

“Yeah, when you keel over in my stockroom!”

“Kelly, listen to me. I can’t stay dead. My body won’t let me. And… yeah, they’re not poisoned. I’d know by now. Now, don’t panic about this tonight. I’m here and I’ll keep you safe. Tomorrow we’ll take this thing to the police station.”

Kelly nods slowly.

“Okay, right,” she tells me.

I take the box from her hands and encourage her to go back to work. The rest of the night I occupy a bar stool, watching over Kelly. When it’s time to close the bar Kelly explains what is going on to Margot and the boys. Ethan and John promise her that she’s safe with us around to protect her. Margot on the other hand doesn’t seem to realize how very serious this is, at first.

“Come on, you guys have got to be overreacting,” she says with a joking smile.

“Honey, I had to hoist a baker out of a gas filled room and take her to an alley to get fresh air,” I tell her. “Then the killer went to her hospital room and cut her neck open with a scalpel. This is certainly not an overreaction. For some reason, this dude is targeting your mother.”

Margot doesn’t look like she wants to believe me but seems to realize that my tone is very serious. She goes silent.

“We should get some sleep,” John suggests. “Tomorrow is going to be full.” 

Everyone seems to agree and heads to bed. 

When morning comes, Kelly is up around my usual wake up time. I try to do my usual routine but am constantly interrupted by her sighs when she looks at her phone. Pulling on clothes and pulling my hair up into a ponytail I grab the distressed redhead and take us down into the bar.

“What’s going on?” I demand. “Are you worried I can’t protect you? Because if that’s the case you’re really gonna hurt my feelings.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she tells me with a moppy tone. “I’m just… Well, listen to this.”

She puts her phone on speaker and pushes play on a voicemail message.

“Kelly, hey. It’s Chad. Again,” says a man’s voice. “I’m just calling ‘cause… it’s our anniversary. Look… I can’t pretend to know why you left, but I want to understand, Kelly. And I made a reservation for tomorrow night at our place. I miss you, Kel.”

Kelly sighs, her eyes glassy. 

“That’s a heavy message,” I tell her. “I’m sorry, who is, Chad?”

“He’s Kelly’s fiance,” she tells me. “ _ My _ fiance. I haven’t been able to explain at all to this wonderful man what’s going on.”

“Oh, shit,” I mutter. “This curse is a real mess for  _ so _ many people!”

Kelly nods just as Roni comes through the front door. We look at her together.

“Look who’s back from her nature walk,” Kelly says with a forced grin. “How’d it go?”

“Did you know that there are 12,000 different kinds of moss?” Roni says flinging her hands out wide. “I mean, it took me forever to find what I needed. But…” she pulls a paper bag out of her purse and smiles, “I got it. Now we can cure Henry and break this curse.”

“That’s great, but there’s just one problem,” Kelly tells her. “Henry’s not here. He skipped town for some job interview in New York.”

“He actually went?” I ask surprised. 

Kelly nods and I’m glad I didn’t actually place a bet.

“What?!” Roni says in exasperation. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Kelly sighs and grabs the heart shaped box we left on the bar top last night.

“I got distracted,” she tells Roni. “Seems I’ve got a secret admirer. Lavinia found them outside the bar last night.”

“So, the witch killer has moved on from coven members…” Roni mutters. “But why you?”

“I don’t know. But you know who didn’t have these problems? Kelly. I mean, yeah, she used organic deodorant and dabbled in freeganism. I mean, eating rubbish was not my finest moment, but at least Kelly didn’t kill a munchkin.” She sighs and her eyes go soft, “She was loved. Chad’s a good man, and… he’d never choose Zelena.”

“This curse wasn’t really a curse for you, was it?” Roni asks, realizing her sister’s real problem.

Kelly shakes her head sadly.

“It was more like a vacation.”

“Well, listen,” I tell Kelly kindly, “if there is one thing that I know to be basically a rule for stories, it’s that whatever is meant to be, will be. So, let’s get your squared away with this crazy killer guy and focus on Chad later. It’s time to get you to the station.”

She nods and stands, picking up the box as she does.

“You guys go take care of that, I’ll work on getting that spell up and running,” Roni says.

We nod and head for the station. When we arrive Rogers is standing a short distance from the front door, looking at papers in a folder. A telephone rings as we walk over to him. His eyes instantly go to the candy box then up to Kelly’s face.

“Where did you get that?” he demands.

“I need to talk to Weaver,” she tells him.

“Whatever you’re gonna tell him, you can tell me. I’m his partner.”

“I know who you are, Captain,” she replies. 

“It’s Detective Rogers,” he corrects her. “And I hate to tell you this, but that box makes you a target in my case.”

“I’ve already told her that,” I tell him. “That’s why she’s here.”

“I’ll need you to answer some questions,” he says with a nod. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria? I can get you a cup of tea, and maybe we can talk there.”

“Of course,” she says as she elbows me lightly and suggestively eyes Weaver in the background.

“You did say that you wanted to step into the restroom when we got here,” I say to her smoothly. “How about I show you where it is and then we’ll meet Rogers in the cafeteria.”

“Yes, thank you!” she says with a smile.

Rogers nods.

“Lavinia,” he says, catching my attention, “Coffee or tea?”

“Tea please,” I say with a smile. “Thank you.”

He gives me a smile and leaves. Kelly exhales then heads for Weaver. Once she’s over at his desk he seems to know that it’s her.

“Kelly,” he says without looking at her. “To what do I owe this displeasure?”

“It’s your lucky day,” she says as she drops the box of chocolates on his desk. “Turns out I’m next on the Candy-Killer’s hit list.”

He chuckles at this with little care.

“Oh, are you?” he asks. “So, how does it feel to finally be chosen before Regina?”

“This isn’t funny,” she snaps at him. “I know you and Captain Cursed and Lavinia have been tracking this maniac. Do you know who he is?”

“In Hyperion Heights? No. But we do know who he was in the old country. Hansel.”

Weaver looks at her and waits. Kelly’s expression goes very dark.

“Hansel,” she scoffs in frustration. “I should have known this wasn’t just a witch thing.”

“So, you two have history.”

“I did something terrible to Hansel. Now my past is coming back to haunt me.”

“Well, I’ll string a few words together for your eulogy,” he tells her apathetically as he looks back at his paperwork.

“Look, I know I deserve what’s coming to me, okay,” Kelly says insistently. “But my daughter doesn’t. I need your help.”

He chuckles through gritted teeth and looks at her.

“And why would I help you?”

“You can’t just let me die,” Kelly says softly. “Not if you ever want to be reunited with Belle.” Weaver shifts uncomfortably, rubbing his chin with his hand. “So, please. Help me stop Hansel.”

Weaver looks at me with an irritated expression. I shrug in response.

“Come with me,” he says with a sigh as he stands.

Kelly doesn’t say a word, only smirks with satisfaction as she follows along. At the door to Weaver’s locker, the code is put in, and he opens the door. Weaver turns on the lights and heads over to the caged area. Kelly chuckles.

“You can take the Dark One out of the pawnshop…” she says with a smile. Coming to stand next to me at the heavy metal table in the middle of the room, Kelly says, “What have you got down here for me, then? Shotgun? Crossbow? Samurai sword?”

“The only one qualified to use a samurai sword in this room is the woman standing next to you,” Weaver says from inside the cage. As he comes out, with a golden box in hand, he adds, “I’m not giving you a gun because you don’t need one.”

“What, so I’m supposed to fight a serial killer with a tchotchke?”

Weaver sets the golden box on the table next to us. Putting his fingers on the lid he looks at Kelly.

“You’re not going up against Hansel,” he tells her. “You’re fighting your past. And that requires a very different weapon.”

He slides the box over to the red haired woman next to me. Kelly picks it up and pops the lid open with a snap. There’s a deep green stone the size of a small child’s fist set in silver and diamonds. A sturdy, yet beautiful chain is attached to it. She smiles reminiscently at it and looks up at Weaver with nostalgia.

“My necklace.” Kelly picks the pendant up and adds, suddenly more sour, “How on Earth is this gonna help me? I mean, Kelly doesn’t have magic.”

Weaver scoffs and nods at this.

“The Wicked Witch I knew didn’t need magic. She found a way to survive even when it killed her. And do you know how I know that?” He leans toward her pointedly and answers, “Because you’re still here. Annoying me.”

“Yeah, well,” Kelly sighs and looks away with a bitter smile, “that Witch is the one that got me into this mess... And I’m tired of paying for her sins.”

There’s a knowing nod from Weaver as he turns back to the cage door and shuts it.

“Well, make amends because she’s a part of you whether you like it or not. And that’s how you’re going to win this fight.”

“I suppose no matter how much we change,” Kelly says looking at her necklace again and touching it fondly, “there’s still this nasty, little piece of us we can’t get rid of.”

Weaver looks at me then as if Kelly’s words should be striking a chord in me somewhere.

“And we shouldn’t, eh?” he says to both of us. “Because it’s that piece that shows us how far we’ve come and how much we have to lose.”

“Oh, dear,” I say looking at Weaver with concern, “you need to check your face.”

Kelly looks at him with confused concern.

“What?” he says to me, equally confused.

“Yeah, check it.” Through gritted teeth, I add, “Because I think your nose is in my business.”

He sighs and shifts his weight as he looks at me with tired annoyance.

“You do realize that if you keep doing things the way you’re doing them, you’re going to lose what your family loved most?”

A growl escapes me and I grab him up by his jacket collar. Pulling him closer to me, I glare into his face.

“My family is fucking dead,” I remind him with a hiss. “I don’t get to die and go see them if I behave myself. I don’t get to die at all. Stop trying to make me into a hero. I know my role and what I have to do to make sure that things go the way they are supposed to. What I am now is not because I was a coward or lazy. I evolved so that I could do my job better than anyone else. If you’re worried about my soul, don’t bother. I already gave it away a long time ago. So, get out of my business and worry about your own.”

I release him with a slight shove before I grab Kelly’s arm and drag her out of the locker to the cafeteria, to Rogers. 

“What the hell was that all about?” she asks in a whisper as we walk.

“He doesn’t like it that I’m more grey than black and white,” I reply. 

“...Meaning?” 

“Meaning,” I say with a huff, “that I don’t have a problem killing people to make sure that my charges get where they need to.”

“Ah,” she says knowingly. “He and Regina really have adopted this whole reformed villain thing.”

“Correct.”

“But you don’t see a problem with playing the villain?”

I stop and look at her.

“I would make the very best and most terrifying villain,” I reply without any remorse. “But, the role I play isn’t hero or villain. I am merely a supporting character. You guys fail to understand that the regular soldier who does everything right still has to kill to make sure that what needs protecting stays protected.”

“But don’t you want more?” Kelly asks with concern that surprises me.

“No,” I tell her simply. “Not anymore. You see, you will get to live your life to the very end. More importantly, you are guaranteed an ending. I am not and I do not get to be the main character in even my own story. I don’t have a story anymore.”

“How is that possible?”

Kelly looks so confused.

“Someone is still writing your story,” I try to explain. “You exist in a world where a writer is lovingly crafting your life so that it can have meaning not only for you but anyone who comes to know it. Readers or viewers. I help the writer, like a ghost in the pages, to make sure that the story gets to where it needs to be. I, on the other hand, have no one writing my story. There isn’t one for me. All that I am is a servant to other people’s lives, their tales.”

“Th-That can’t be possible,” Kelly says to me with sadness. She reaches out to touch my arm, then stops herself. “No wonder you drank two bottles of vodka straight. You were trying to forget how hard you have to be.”

A ragged breath hits me suddenly and I look away at the bland beige wall of the police station hall.

“We need to get you to Rogers,” I say softly.

I move quickly down the hall to the cafeteria; Kelly follows behind me silently. Rogers smiles faintly at me when we enter. Once we are seated on the other side of the table from him, he hands Kelly a paper cup of warm tea before one is placed in front of me. With his notepad out, pen at the ready, Rogers looks at Kelly.

“Now, please tell me everything. When you got the box, where it was, what you were doing at the time. Did you have a connection to the other women who have been killed?”

“I was working at the bar last night,” Kelly starts.

She answers his questions, informing him lastly, that she had no connection to the other women. Of course, the fact that she hadn’t known them in this world is left out completely. As is the fact that the killer is after her because of something she had done to him in the other realm. That simply wouldn’t be helpful to Rogers who doesn’t know or believe yet. In the end, Rogers finds he’s hit another brick wall. He sends Kelly back to the bar with a police escort after requesting that I stick around. 

“Something’s happened to Henry,” he tells me in a soft voice once Kelly is on her way out the front doors. 

I look at him in shock.

“What?” I whisper. “This morning Kelly was sure he had gone to New York.”

“His car was found on the side of the road over by the troll last night,” Rogers says. “One of the tires was flat.”

“Well, did you call the airline?” I ask, thinking things over. “Maybe he called a cab?”

“I checked while you were showing Kelly to the restroom. They said he never boarded.”

“What?!” I hiss, grabbing his arm in shock.

_ Roni is going to lose her shit if she finds this out. _

Rogers touches my arm quickly and looks at me.

“I know,” he says with a nod. “I think we need to go talk to Jacinda. If there’s anyone who would know where he is, it would be her.”

“Do you know where she is?” 

“I’ve called Sabine, she says that Jacinda goes to Hyperion Heights High School track and football field in the morning to run.”

“Okay,” I nod, “let’s go.”

He squeezes my arm gently before he ushers me to his car. It’s a fifteen-minute drive to the field. By the time we get there, the Seattle rain has started. No one seems to mind this as we pull into the parking lot. Getting out we look around for Jacinda. She seems to be running laps on the track outside of the football field. We decide to wait for her to come around to us. When Jacinda sees us she smiles as she stops, pushing her hood back.

“Detective Rogers,” she says with a smile. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you heard anything from Henry,” Rogers asks her calmly. “I’m worried. His car was found abandoned with a flat tire, so I called the airline.” Jacinda’s face falls as she looks at him with concern. Rogers shakes his head as he goes on, “He never boarded the flight to New York.”

“But that’s impossible,” she says with a forced smile. “He’s… He’s there. He texted me. The interview went well.”

Rogers puts on a polite smile.

“Can I see those texts?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Jacinda says quickly as she turns to the car next to us. “My phone is in my car.”

Jacinda pulls the door open and digs around in her purse. I notice in the front seat a box for a gingerbread house kit. Gently, I tap Rogers in the side with my elbow and point it out to him.

“How’s Lucy been?” Rogers asks with another smile to Jacinda as she stands up. “She, uh… she taken up edible arts and crafts?” 

He points to the box.

“Oh, that? No. Nick gave her that.” Jacinda smiles as she looks at her phone. Moving her fingers over the screen she hands it over to us. “Found it. See?”

It reads:

J- sorry I haven’t called.

Was focusing on the

Interview. Went well! 

Tell you about it later :D

“Henry’s fine,” she insists.

Rogers and I seem to read it together a second time before he hands it back to her.

“Can you read this again and tell me if you see anything, anything that doesn’t sound like Henry?” Rogers asks.

Jacinda nods and looks at the text again. She seems skeptical at first before the corners of her eyes scrunch up in slight disagreement.

“J…” she says then looks back up at Rogers. “He’s never called me that.”

“Who does?” I ask.

“Just Sabine. But she was right next to me when I got the text.”

“...Nick,” Rogers says when he looks at the front seat of her car again. “He called you that at Flynn’s barcade the other night. Jacinda, does Nick have any, uh, scars on his arms?”

_ He must have had a guy's night a while back. Probably one of the times I was running around trying to help Weaver with the case, _ I think to myself.

“Yes, but he’s very self-conscious about it,” Jacinda tells us slowly.

“I don’t have time to explain,” Rogers tells her. “I need you to go home. Don’t let anyone in, and don’t answer your phone. I think I know where Henry is.”

Rogers touches my arm and moves quickly to his car. I climb into the passenger side just as he’s turning the engine on. With a slight squeal of tires, we peel out of the parking lot and across the Heights to Nick’s apartment. Rogers is informed by Weaver that Margot, Kelly’s daughter, will be at the police station with him. As we drive I quietly and secretly send a text message to Ethan and John:

[Keep Kelly and Roni safe. Killer is Nick. Has Henry. Do not tell that to Roni. Rogers and I are on our way to get him.]

What I get back in less than a minute are responses of:

[Will do.] From Ethan.

[Consider it done.] From John.

The apartment building that Nick lives in is elegant and refined. Rogers seems to know exactly which door on the sixteenth floor hides Henry behind it. Pulling his gun, Rogers kicks it in. We scan the open layout of the posh apartment. Tied to a sturdy column in the middle of the living room is an unconscious Henry. I rush over to him as he groans in pain; he seems to be waking up. I start to untie his hands.

“Henry?” Rogers says softly as he looks around, stepping closer to us. “Henry, are you okay?”

“What?” he asks groggily. Rogers makes his way through the very silent apartment. I know that no one is here aside from us, I can hear it. “I’m okay… Yeah, I’m okay. But Nick… he’s… he’s after Kelly. He’s crazy.” As soon as he’s untied he turns to me and grabs my arm with panic in his eyes, Rogers comes back in then as Henry goes on, “He thinks she’s a witch. We need… uh, to get to her before he does.”

“Yeah, we will,” Rogers tells him.

“I’ve already got my guys on guard duty,” I tell them.

“You remember how well that worked out for the police guarding our baker,” Rogers says with concern.

“Trust me,” I reply with a small smile, “my boys can take care of Kelly  _ and _ Nick. It’s just a matter of getting there before they kill him.”

“Right,” Rogers nods gravely. “Then right now, we need to get out of here.”

I check Henry’s head as he grabs at the back of his skull and grunts. There is a huge bump there.

“He might have given you a concussion,” I tell him. “We need to get you to the hospital so they can check.”

Rogers grabs Henry’s arm and hoists him up to his feet. I take his other side.

“Come on then. Here we go,” Rogers says softly as we move to the door.

We quickly get Henry to the hospital. Once he’s been checked in at the front desk he insists that we go take care of Kelly. As we’re driving over to the bar we get a call from Ethan through Rogers’ phone.

“Hey, this is, uh, Ethan Chandler at Roni’s bar.”

“Hello, Ethan, yeah,” Rogers says with the phone on speaker. “I assume you’re one of Lavinia’s coworkers?”

“Yeah,” Ethan replies over the speaker. “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got that Nick guy locked up in the basement.”

“Good, did he hurt anyone?” I ask quickly.

“Nah, nothing a little bandagin’ can’t fix,” Ethan says with a smile in his voice. “You guys want us to do anything else with him?”

“No, just keep him there until we arrive,” Rogers replies.

“Well done, honey,” I tell him with a smile.

“All in a day’s work,” he tells us.

Rogers tells him bye then hangs up. We drive through the streets of Hyperion Heights in silence for a little while.

“...You’re friend Ethan, you and he are close?”

“Very close,” I reply and nod. “We’ve fought many battles together and lost people.”

“I see…” Rogers says, trailing off. “Then you aren’t…”

I look at him. His face is very serious as he stares out the window at the road. There’s a struggle to find words and keep his composure.

“What he and I have is more familial,” I inform him. “Are you worried about competition?”

Rogers’ face gets a little pink as he pinches his features into an expression of frustration. This makes me laugh.

“It’s not that funny…” he whispers.

I pat his arm as I smile.

“It really is,” I inform him. “You are bringing me back to high school with you’re cute, don’t-wanna-let-the-girl-know, thing.”

“That doesn’t exactly bolster a man’s confidence,” he tells me softly as he pulls up in front of Roni’s bar.

As we get out, I’m still smiling when I say, “I like you flustered and adorable. It compliments that whole rough, hard-boiled detective thing you’ve got going on.”

“...I suppose that’s some consolation,” he says softly as he heads to the door.

I smile at him as he holds it open for me. John greets us at the door and takes Rogers down to the basement to collect Nick. Kelly is sitting over by the bar with a red haired man next to her, Ethan standing a ways off.

“Well,” I say softly as I come up behind her. Kelly looks at me quickly. “Seems like you’re relatively okay, yeah?”

“I’m fine,” she assures me with a relieved smile. “John and Ethan helped restrain Nick after he used Chad to bait me.”

She indicates the man next to her.

“Oh!” I say with an apologetic smile. Pushing my hand out to him I add, “You’re Chad, Kelly has told me about you. I hope you’re alright.”

“Yes,” he nods with a polite smile as he shakes my hand.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this. We’ve been trying for over a week now to get this guy.”

Chad looks at Kelly and gives her a genuine smile.

“That’s alright, I think it may have helped us get closer, actually,” Chad says without looking at me.

“Hey,” I say with a genuinely pleased smile, “blessings in disguise. Gotta love those.” I look to Ethan and step away. When we are a good distance off, closer to some couches, I speak to my friend, “How was it?”

“Oh, nothin’ special,” he tells me with a shrug. “Those ninja lessons we had in Japan came in handy. But that Nick fella wasn’t much to write home about to begin with.”

I nod and turn just as Rogers brings a handcuffed Nick into the bar. Nick looks at Ethan and me after glaring at Kelly. Rogers gives me a nod before he heads out the door. He’ll be taking Nick to lock up at the station. I’ll stay here and help clean up whatever mess was made.

About twenty-some minutes go by and Roni comes back into the bar just as Chad is leaving for a hotel. Kelly pours whiskey for everyone and we all go sit down together. Roni looks at me with annoyance.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Henry was kidnapped by Nick?” she asks me.

“Because you would have tried to get involved,” I reply truthfully. “Rogers and I had it under control. You needed to be here to take care of your sister.”

“He’s my son,” she starts.

“And we had it covered,” I repeat pointedly. “Nick had no intention of hurting Henry. That much was obvious. He was well taken care of, aside from the concussion.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” I insist. “He wasn’t sitting in a puddle of his own filth. He didn’t look like he was hungry or thirsty. That would indicate that Nick was taking care of him even though he had him tied up. Now, explain to me how Nick knew Henry in your world.”

“They were… Well, they were best friends,” Roni says thoughtfully. “But we all knew him as Jack the Giant Killer.”

“Huh, man had a lot of aliases,” I muse. “I wonder if it was just a way to escape the past…”

“Possibly,” Roni nods. “But you can’t do that forever.”

“It always catches up to you,” Ethan says as he downs his drink.

I look at my friend and nod knowingly. Roni nods as she looks at her sister.

“Well, it’s nice to see that rock back where it belongs,” Ronis says as she nods to Kelly’s engagement ring. I hadn’t noticed it before. It’s a rather stunning engagement ring, even from this distance. Chad must be a well-to-do man. “So, I guess you and Chad…?”

“He knows almost everything at this point,” Kelly says as she looks at her ring. “Minus the fairy tale bits.” She smiles and shakes her head as she looks at her sister. “And somehow, he still wants to be with me. But there’s one thing I haven’t told him yet.”

“What’s that?” Roni asks.

“That I have to stay here with you,” Kelly says softly. “You need my help curing Henry and breaking the curse.”

Roni looks at her sister with the sweetest, most grateful look I’ve ever seen on her face.

“I’ll manage,” Roni tells her sister affectionately. “We’ve taught John so much and he’s an amazing assistant.” I grin at this and pat John’s knee with pride; he grins back sheepishly. Roni goes on, “You came when I needed you. Kelly deserves a little happiness. And,” she sighs and shakes her head insistently, “so does Zelena.” Roni grabs her sister’s hand and pulls her up to stand. With her voice breaking, she smiles as she says, “So, go on, you monkey. You get on that bike and fly.”

Ethan, John, and I watch with smiles on our faces. If ever there were three people who knew how important a little happiness is, it would be us. Just then Margot comes through the door, I had forgotten that she was sent to stay with Weaver at the police station.

“Why does that look like a goodbye hug?” she asks, disturbed.

Roni and Kelly separate and look at her.

“Hey, Margot,” Kelly says softly. 

Roni looks at us with an expression that suggests we should get up and let them have some privacy. We quickly obey and go over to the bar where she pours us another round of drinks.

“I don’t know what Detective Weaver told you,” Kelly says as Margot sits. “But there are some things I need to tell you about me.”

“I… know all I need to know,” Margot interrupts.

“You do?” Kelly asks, confused.

“You have a past,” Margot says with a hint of a smile in her voice. “Someone doesn’t try to be that zen unless they’re covering up for some shady crap they did. So, what was it? Spy? Assassin? A crime boss? ...Crime boss! I knew it!”

I snort a laugh into my glass. Ethan and John chuckle softly too.

“I promise it will make sense very soon,” Kelly tells her with a smile.

“Wait… What’s going on?”

“Chad and I are going back to San Francisco,” Kelly tells her with a happy grin. “Do you want to come with us?”

There’s a small pause.

“Actually…” Margot starts. “I’m kind of digging Hype Town now.”

“Really?” Kelly asks, surprised.

“I met someone I wouldn’t mind sticking around for.”

“Well, I’m all for you making new friends,” Kelly tells her softly. “Especially cute blond ones.”

_ Is she talking about Tilly? _ I wonder.

“Okay, can we please not jinx this?” Margot begs. “It’s still really early.”

Roni leans closer over the bar as she looks at me. 

“She’s talking about Tilly,” Roni whispers. “In the other realm, they were in love.”

“And of course they were forced to forget that as soon as they got here,” I mutter with a nod. 

“Margot,” Kelly says, “I want you to wear this necklace when you come to the wedding in a couple of months. It’s a family heirloom and… I want you to be my maid of honor.”

“Really?” Margot says in surprise.

“Margot…” Kelly says with tears in her voice, “any happiness I have, it all began with you.” 

All of us sneak a peek at the mother and daughter, they are hugging and crying now.

“Children,” John says softly. “They do that for some of us.”

I look at my pale blue friend.

“Yes, they do,” I reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any rights to Penny Dreadful, X-Men, Supernatural, or Once Upon a Time.  
> Traveler Lavinia, Gersham, the Citadel, and the Council are mine and should not be reproduced without my permission.


End file.
